


The Heart Of A Broken Story

by Heliocat



Series: The Heart Of A Broken Story Series [1]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Asexuality Spectrum, Ash Lynx Goes to Japan, Ash Lynx Lives, Ash Lynx is good with kids, Athletes, Bath Houses, Boats and Ships, Boys Being Boys, Boys Kissing, Boys' Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Celibacy, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Coming to Terms with Loss, Crying, Culture Shock, Cute, Depression, Drums, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father Figures, Feels, Festivals, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Food, Freedom, Friendship, Gallows Humor, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Gray-Asexuality, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heart-to-Heart, Homoromantic, Hospitalization, Hugs, Humor, I Love You, Inappropriate Humor, Innuendo, Intimacy, Izumo - Freeform, Japan, Japanese, Japanese Culture, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Letters, Local customs, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Matsue, Max Lobo is a good dad, Max Lobo is a good therapist, Meet the Family, Men Crying, Mental Health Issues, My Soul is With You, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, OTP Feels, Panic Attacks, Parental Max, Past Character Death, Peace, Photography, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Platonic Soulmates, Police, Police Procedural, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Shame, Shinto, Shunichi Ibe is a good tour guide, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmates, Tokyo (City), Touring, Trains, Trans-Pacific flight, Trauma, US Supreme Court, Walks On The Beach, gratitude, lanterns, learning a language, shrine, working for a living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 67,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliocat/pseuds/Heliocat
Summary: Main storyline epilogue, picking up from Ash falling asleep in the library and set in the 80s (mostly manga based).Ash Lynx survives, but where does he go from here? He's finally free to do as he likes, but is he really as free as he thinks?With the help of Max Lobo, can he restart his life as a respectable citizen? And what about his relationship with Eiji?A slow-burner, full of angst and eventual fluff. Also a surprising amount of seafood.
Relationships: Alex & Ash Lynx, Ash Lynx & Michael, Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji's Sister, Ash Lynx & Sing Soo-Ling, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Ibe Shunichi & Ash Lynx, Ibe Shunichi & Max Lobo, Ibe Shunichi & Okumura Eiji, Max Lobo & Ash Lynx, Max Lobo/Jessica Randy
Series: The Heart Of A Broken Story Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981192
Comments: 83
Kudos: 227





	1. Because I Could Not Stop For Death

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a while since I have finished a long fic... ooof! I will upload a couple of chapters at a time over the next few days so as not to overwhelm people :) Occasionally, I reference tiny things from my other short fics (most of which I have attempted to fit into the gaps in the canon), but my primary source for canon information is the manga and, to a lesser extent, the anime. It's a slow-burner, but I'm quietly chuffed!
> 
> Thank you MizukiPerry, for keeping me motivated!
> 
> I have a lot of love for Max Lobo <3
> 
> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Max once again found himself in New York Presbyterian’s hospital ICU.

Charlie had called him and told him the news. He’d been found unconscious in the public library. He had seemingly fallen asleep at one of the desks but, rather than forcefully wake him, as would be usual in that situation, the staff had recognised him as a regular and left him to sleep as he wasn’t bothering anyone. At closing time, when he still hadn’t awoken by himself, they had finally intervened. Close to death, he’d been rushed to hospital. That was where he lay now, hooked up to countless machines that beeped and whirred and wheezed, a drip feeding into his arm introducing a much-needed blood transfusion into his veins. The puncture wound in his abdomen wasn’t as severe as the one he had received in his fight with Arthur – it had missed everything vital, barely tickling the interior of his body cavity with its merciless point, but the doctors said if he had been brought in even ten minutes later, he would have bled to death slumped over the library table.

In typical Ash Lynx style, he had proven himself once again to be notoriously sturdy and resistant to murder.

“Shit, kid,” Max muttered to himself, looking down at the worryingly thin, pale teenager laid in the bed before him. It was early days, and there was still a chance he wouldn’t pull through, or else would develop an infection or secondary complications, but he was young and fit and the doctors were pretty positive about his outcome. “You never catch a break, do you?”

A lone cop sat by the doorway, guarding entry to the room. He was to be questioned when he was well enough, and there was a possibility he could be arrested and sent back to jail. Charlie had assured Max he was doing everything he could to prevent this happening, but the fact remained that the body of Lao Len Tai had been found slumped against the wall of the library outside. When autopsied, a single Magnum round was found lodged by his spleen, and said bullet matched the ammo used in Ash’s trusty Smith and Wesson. Upon further forensic examination of both the ammunition and the pistol, which had been confiscated as evidence, the police had concluded it was 95% likely that the round had been fired from that weapon. The odds rose higher when it became apparent the cylinder was holding one empty cartridge; Ash was usually meticulous when it came to keeping his weapon in top shape, so it would be unlikely he’d be walking around casually with an empty. The big question was whether he had fired first or not.

Max hoped it had been in self-defence. If justifiable homicide could be proven, Ash may get off with a reduced sentence or probation. If he was extremely fortunate, they may even drop the case entirely, but it was unlikely. His previous record had been wiped clean the first time he ‘died’ in the mental hospital, plus Charlie was banking on him being a key victim in the ongoing Golzine case to work in his favour too. Play the victimised minor card hard enough and you can wheedle your way out of several punishments. The fact he had asked nobody for help with a non-fatal wound, however, suggested he had wanted to die. Was he trying to avoid jail by dying? Or had something else happened? He wasn’t the cowardly type to shirk off responsibility for his actions, but with everything he had been through the last few months, Max wouldn’t be surprised if Ash would welcome the cold embrace of death with open arms just to escape the psychological pain. He sighed sadly, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

On the bedside table, the hospital staff had placed Ash’s belongings. His cream woollen coat, while bloodstained inside, had been carefully folded and awaited his wear at a later time, although they had discarded the shirt and trousers he’d been wearing that day – not only were they bloodstained, the shirt sporting a small jagged tear, but they had needed to cut them from his body to gain quick access to his wound. Max had been to his old apartment and brought him a fresh change of clothes today; a white T-shirt, a pair of slacks, and a couple of pairs of underpants were stuffed into an overnight bag along with a dressing gown and some slippers for him to wear around the hospital when he woke up, a toothbrush, and a few other toiletries. The shoes he had been wearing had been placed in an alcove in the table to keep them off the floor. He no longer had possession of his gun and, apparently, they’d also confiscated a utility knife he had been carrying. His remaining possessions consisted of a wallet, reading glasses in a very beat-up old case, a set of keys, and a slightly screwed up letter, which had been placed on top of his coat. The letter in particular caught Max’s eye, the envelope creased and smeared with blood. Charlie said he’d been reading it when they found him; paramedics had folded it up and put it back in the envelope without looking at it, and it had remained closed since. He knew he shouldn’t look at it; it wasn’t his to see, but…

He slid the letter out from under the keys and wallet and examined the envelope with a critical eye. Chicken-scratch writing adorned the front, just the name ‘Ash’ in black biro pen. The handwriting looked familiar, the uncomfortable hand of someone more used to writing in logograms than latin. He opened the envelope, and after a quick scan over the bloodied pages he confirmed his suspicions.

The letter was from Eiji.

He didn’t read it, although he did see snippets of the contents. The sentence ‘my soul is always with you’ leapt out with heartfelt honesty. This was clearly a very private and personal document. Plane tickets to Japan were also included, although the flight had long since left. He carefully returned the letter to the envelope and replaced it under the keys and wallet.

“You wanted to die happy, didn’t you?” Max murmured. “I get it… more than a lot of people, I get it. But for pity’s sake, kid, you have someone out there worth living for! So you can’t die now. After what he did for you, he deserves some form of closure at least.”

Max stayed for a further hour, standing a silent vigil over his tragic charge. He quietly left when a nurse informed him visiting hours were over.

*

Three days later, Ash woke up.

He hadn’t been expecting to see the white tiled ceiling, nor smell the scent of antiseptics, or feel the crisp cotton sheets wrapped around him. He hadn’t been expecting to wake up again at all. Last he remembered was taking a seat at the library, his head spinning, vision dimming as tinnitus drowned out his hearing, the letter from Eiji grasped tight in his hand as a sense of deep peace enfolded him…

He was equal parts relieved and pissed off to have survived.

Pissed off because he had been content to die. He’d tied up all his loose ends and had set contingency plans into motion to keep the peace for a long while in his absence. With him gone, the Chinatowners would finally settle down and Alex and the others could rekindle the bonds of friendship between them without the tension over Shorter. Golzine was gone, Foxx was gone, Griffin was avenged and no longer needed his care and Banana Fish was over… The letter had been the icing on the cake. At that point in time, knowing he had been truly loved, knowing that the one person he cared about most in the world was going somewhere safe and would never get entangled in the shit-show of his life again… he’d been so gloriously happy at that thought, happier than he’d ever been, that he would have gladly strolled off the end of a pier without a second thought or regret.

Relieved because it meant he miraculously survived. Just as his life had taken a turn for the better… he couldn’t just roll over and die now! He was finally free of the Union Course, free of his obligations and duties, free to do what he wanted. Not only that, but there were people who would genuinely miss him and mourn for him should he die; Max, Alex, Bones, Kong, Blanca, Sing… Eiji. God, how could he even consider just _dying_ like that and leaving him behind? He would never have forgiven himself if he’d hurt him like that.

Although he’d also have been dead, so…

He took better stock of his surroundings. He was in a hospital, that much was obvious, in a private room. A mask was over his face, puffing cool oxygen-rich air over his mouth and nose. A machine nearby bleeped in time to his heartbeat. He could feel the sticky pads and wires trailing from various points on his body, electronically reading his status. There was a cannula in his hand, hooked up to an IV drip being fed from a bag of saline and no doubt painkillers hanging from a pole by the bed. Under the covers, he felt the discomfort of a catheter, and the tight squeeze of bandages around his midriff. He wasn’t in any pain, but being high as a kite on hospital-grade opiates will have that effect. He did, however, feel weak as a kitten. Moving even slightly was exhausting and took a lot of effort. His mind felt strangely foggy too, like someone had replaced his brain with cotton wool, likely a result of the heavy-duty drug cocktail circulating in his system.

A nurse in a pink uniform came in to check on him. She jumped a little when she saw he was awake, and then smiled kindly. Ash eyed her warily, but even with the mask on his face he could smell the reassuring waft of disinfectant soap, a light rose-scented perfume, and laundry starch, allowing Ash to relax knowing she was a genuine nurse and not an assassin. It had happened before; the assassin nurse the last time he was bed-bound combined with his time in the mental hospital, where they had come within mere minutes of destroying his mind, had left him suspicious of everyone in a medical uniform.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she said cheerily, checking on the almost-empty saline bag. She busied herself unhooking it and connecting up a fresh one. “Nice to see you in the land of the living!”

“Where am I?” Ash croaked, his voice husky with disuse.

“Presbyterian,” she replied. “You were stabbed. You were moved out of the ICU yesterday, and are currently on a private ward under police protection.”

“Urgh…” Ash groaned. He wasn’t surprised, but waking up in hospital with more cops than doctors monitoring him was becoming a little too regular an occurrence for him. No doubt Lao Len Tai had something to do with their presence. He remembered he had shot him, and when he left him Lao was slumped against the wall. While he’d uncharacteristically missed his vital points in his distracted and surprised state, it was likely the Chinese boy would have bled out pretty fast afterwards. He wondered if Sing knew what had happened, and whether he would hold it against him for killing his half-brother, even if it was self-defence. Sing was smart and pragmatic, willing to listen to both sides of a story and make judgements based on facts, plus he was one of the few Chinatowners who had still trusted him, thanks to Eiji and his big mouth spilling the unpleasant beans. However, family loyalty is strong amongst the Chinese.

“You really need to take better care of yourself,” the nurse said sadly. “This is your second stab wound in less than a year – and we found a healing bullet wound too…”

“I am not a lucky person,” he said blandly.

“I dunno about that. You’ve survived several near-death experiences! I’d say you are blessed with an overabundance of luck!” she replied, beaming. Ash said nothing. Looking back over his life, he thought he had a pretty solid case for having no luck at all. “You have a visitor by the way,” she added, satisfied that his stats were fine and his catheter was not in imminent need of changing, and moving towards the door. “He has come by every day – we have to chase him out of the hospital, or else he’d never leave! I’ll let him know you are awake.”

Who…?

He didn’t have to mull over it long after she left. The door practically slammed open and Max Lobo strode into the room with his usual idiotic grin on his face.

“Pops…?” Ash murmured, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. The nurse had said he’d been here daily. Whatever for?

“Hey kid!” Max greeted him jovially. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?” Ash snarked. 

“Well, judging by the slurred words and wide pupils, I’d wager you’re feeling pretty good on the morphine they’re pumping into you.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously though, how are you doing?”

“Surprised I’m alive,” he answered honestly. “How long have I been…?”

“You were admitted 4 days ago,” Max told him. “It was touch and go for a while – we weren’t sure if we could bring you back this time!”

“Is Lao…?”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me honestly, Ash, before the police ask you… it was self-defence, right?” Max had a serious expression, a hint of worry in his kind eyes.

“If you’re asking whether Lao stabbed me before I shot him, then yes, it was self-defence,” Ash said.

“I’m surprised he was even able to get close – you have the predatory senses and will to survive of a tiger!”

“I was distracted,” Ash murmured.

“The letter…?”

Ash didn’t say anything, but he nodded once, glaring at Max with accusatory emerald eyes.

“Before you ask, I didn’t read it. Not in full, anyway. I just know who sent it,” Max explained, raising both hands with palms out in a dismissive gesture. “However, I do think you are one lucky bastard!”

“The nurse said the same thing,” Ash muttered.

“No, I don’t mean because you survived, although that is pretty lucky,” Max explained. “But… I saw how he looked at you. How he acted around you, and the lengths he’d go to for you. Finding yourself a good, honest boy like that? Who’d stay with you even after all that happened? People dream of finding someone like that. I’d say you have the luck of the Irish!”

“My Grandpa was Irish…” Ash murmured. His words slurred heavily as the new morphine drip kicked in. It was a stupid thing to say, not really relevant to anything – Max had just revealed that he knew Ash wasn’t entirely straight. He knew he and Eiji had been far closer than average friends and he was cool with it, which would normally be a big deal, but he was barely thinking coherently anymore and the confession passed him by in a drugged haze.

“Well, there you go then!” Max smirked.

“He’s too good for me,” Ash slurred drunkenly. “He’s so great, and I’m jus’… terrible. He’s better off without me… I jus’ cause problems. He should go get himself a nice Japanese girl… or boy… whatever… he deserves better than me…”

“Aslan Callenreese, you stop with that bullshit self-deprecating talk right now!” Max used his dad-voice. “He chose you, alright? He chose you because you are a wonderful, smart, brave, amazing young man.”

“Too many adjectives…” Ash muttered. “All of ‘em lies!” He sighed. “I miss him…”

“It’s not like he’s gone forever; he’s just gone home for a while. Shunichi tells me he is recovering from his gunshot wound well – his care was transferred over to a Japanese hospital, and he’s due to start rehab physio soon,” Max told him kindly. “Let’s get you following in his footsteps and then we can think about arranging a reunion.”

“I’m prob’ly goin’ to jail…”

“You will be taken to court, but Charlie is doing everything he can, Ash. Most of the charges against you have been dropped, either through lack of evidence or from the testimony of others. The fact Golzine brought armed militia into youth gang warfare has worked in your favour massively – they have treat the entire event as aggravated assault on their part, so everything you and the other kids did was justified. They questioned myself, Jess, Shunichi and Eiji as outsider witnesses; all our stories matched and were sympathetic to the cause, plus there’s the drugs scandal and Golzine using blackmail to force your hand. Add to that the fact some of us were unlawfully imprisoned with the intent of them experimenting on us and it becomes a war crime. Everything you did against them has been classified as non-prosecution, although it has been put on your record. I’m not entirely sure how they’ve managed to accomplish that, but there’s some right to bear arms clause that’s come into play, plus there are people higher up the chain of command who are keen to keep certain things quiet. With the exception of Lao, the remaining offences against you are relatively minor and will probably just result in you getting a fine, which I’m sure between us we can find the funds to cover. It helps that your record got wiped clean when you were pronounced officially dead before – Jenkins has, ahem, bent the rules a little bit and pulled some strings to keep it that way.”

“Firs’ time a bent copper has worked in my favour…” Ash murmured sleepily, his eyes becoming noticeably heavy.

“Usually, I’d be annoyed too, but I just can’t hate those two for twisting the law to our advantage,” Max said, smiling at the irony. He had been jailed for punching a corrupt officer, after all, although that particular asshole had been accepting large bribes from several drug barons, allowing them to distribute Class-A drugs across Manhattan without challenge. Meanwhile, Charlie and Jenkins were just ‘tweaking’ laws gently to try and keep a decent kid out of jail – a kid he had grown rather attached to, and who hadn’t deserved any of the hand dealt to him.

“Will you stay with me, Pops? Jus’ for a while?” Ash asked him, fighting the urge to drift back off into sleep as the drugs pulled him back into a blanketed peace. “I dun wanna be alone…”

“Sure. I’ll stay with you,” Max said quietly. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Ash smiled slightly as he lost his battle with consciousness.


	2. A Man May Make A Remark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Jenkins conduct a formal interview with Ash in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

The following day, Ash found he already felt a lot stronger. He was able to sit upright, and could remove the oxygen mask, although doing much of anything left him fatigued. His catheter was removed, the ECG had been unhooked, and he ate his first solid meal in several days, but he still needed an IV feeding medication and saline into him with a slow and steady drip. The nurse had reduced the level of morphine he was being given too, so his thoughts became lucid and his speech lost the drunken slur. The downside was that he started to feel the pain of his injury too; sharp, tugging stabs of white hot lightning jabbed at his side if he moved too fast, or bent over a certain way. 

Charlie and Inspector Jenkins came to talk to him mid-afternoon, using his hospital room as a make-shift interview room. Jenkins placed a tape recorder on the foot of the bed to officially record the conversation.

“Guess we should make this official,” Jenkins said with a grimace. “I hate doing this… Miranda warnings are so corny! Ash Lynx, or should we call you Aslan Callenreese? Aslan Golzine??? Oh, does it really matter? The result is the same. We are arresting you on suspicion of homicide of Mr Lao Len Tai. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

“Assumed that was the case,” Ash muttered. “The police guard kind-of gave it away.”

“We’re here to do the official interview now,” Charlie explained. “I’m pretty confident in the outcome though. Just answer us truthfully.”

“Naturally.”

Jenkins pushed the record button on the tape recorder, setting the little machine whirring.

“This interview is being tape recorded and may be given in evidence if your case is brought to trial. We are in a private room at New York Presbyterian Hospital. The date is September 14th and the time by my watch is 14:23. I am Inspector Antonio Jenkins. The other officer present is Detective Charles Dickinson. We shall now start the interview. Please state your full name and date of birth…”

“C’mon Inspector, we’ve been here often enough before for you to know who I am,” Ash said cheekily.

“Please just answer, Ash,” Charlie pleaded. “You know as well as I do that it’s all just formality.”

“Yeah yeah, alright… Aslan Jade Callenreese…. Yeah. Definitely still Callenreese, I don’t care what that paperwork said, I am never taking on the name Golzine. Born August 12th 1968, exact place unknown but hometown is Wellfleet, Cape Cod, Massachusetts.”

“We currently have nobody else present at interview, but we would like to remind Aslan that he is entitled to free and independent legal advice in person or by telephone at any stage. Would you like to request legal aid or to speak to a lawyer before we start the interview?”

“Wow, you really have that script learnt off by heart!” Ash smirked.

“We shall take that as a no,” Jenkins said. “At the conclusion of this interview a copy of the tapes can be made available to your lawyer. I will hand you a notice informing you how to go about doing that… but you already know that, don’t you, Ash?”

“Getting to be an old hat at these things, Inspector,” Ash sighed. “You guys love dragging me in and questioning me.”

“Then you know that you don’t have to answer my questions, but it may harm your defence if you fail to say something you may later rely on in court, and anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“Yep.”

“Alrighty then, let’s get down to business.”

It was probably one of the more pleasant police interviews he had ever had. Charlie and Jenkins were fair interviewers, neither pressing or pressurising him into giving them answers, and listening to and querying his statements with unbiased judgement. Most other interviews he had had usually had at least one bent copper demanding answers he couldn’t give or that weren’t true, or using underhand tactics to force a negative reaction out of him. People wondered why he didn’t trust the thin blue line, but they had consistently not been on his side since a very young age. His bad experiences in the interview rooms dated right back to his first ever interview, aged 7, when he had been accused of ‘seducing’ a paedophile, just because the local inspector and that bastard who coached his Little League team were besties. He went on to rape him multiple times over the course of almost a year before Ash stole his old man’s gun and did the only thing he could think of to protect himself. He hadn’t meant to kill him, but in his terror he fired by accident – he had just wanted to threaten him to get him to leave him alone! Neighbours had called the police after hearing shouting and gunshots, and the local cops had stormed in to find him bruised and half-undressed, in a state of shock with silent tears sliding down his face, his abuser dead on the floor with his pants round his ankles and a bullet wedged in his brain from a perfect headshot. It was blatantly obvious what had happened, but he had still been at fault in their eyes. That was, at least, until it was found that the sick fucker had been a mass murderer of young boys and they changed their tune. What a brave child, lucky to survive, the poor boy, all that fluffy bullshit. By then, however, rumours had spread, and the Cape became a very hostile place to live full of snide whispers and ruined reputations. He got in several fights with kids who had once been his friends, kids who now called him names they likely didn’t understand. Whore. Fag bait. Rent boy. Adults would gossip and forbid their children from being around him. He became very lonely, his only friend the entire time being Jennifer, his Dad’s girlfriend, and even she distanced herself. He finally snapped and ran away when his father decided it would be for the best to send him away to his Aunt out-of-state; a horrible devoutly catholic lady, who he knew for a fact hated him just for existing.

Charlie and Jenkins had always been different to most cops. They treat him like the victim he was, not like the punk people thought he was, and he was grateful to them for that. He answered everything truthfully; that Lao had ambushed him, that he’d been distracted and slow to react, and yes, he had fired a single shot in automatic self-defence after being stabbed. The only place he bent the truth was when asked if he knew of any reason why Lao might have attacked him. He said ‘gang rivalry’. He knew Charlie probably knew the real reason, what with him currently dating Shorter’s older sister, but his reply was true enough and served to not incriminate him further with a crime they were not investigating. 

“Thank you, Aslan. The time now, by my watch is… 14:56. This concludes our interview.” Jenkins switched off the tape recorder.

“Well, your information matches the evidence we already have,” Charlie told him happily. “Max also paid for your bail, which means we are happy to release you from police custody until the trial.”

“You have evidence?”

“The library has CCTV,” Jenkins explained. “It took us a couple of days to pull the footage, but… it shows you arriving at the scene. You left the library with an individual we identified as Sing Soo Ling. The two of you had a conversation, then Mr. Soo Ling left. You then sat on a bench in Bryant Park for several minutes, reading a letter. Mr. Len Tai can be seen loitering nearby, clearly watching and tailing you. We think you must have read something important in the letter, because you stand up and start to run along the sidewalk towards the subway station. You do not have a weapon in your hand at that time. At that point, Mr. Len Tai leaps out with a bladed weapon clearly visible and attacks you first. Only then do you shoot him, before staggering into the library.”

“It’s pretty clear that what you did was justifiable self-defence,” Charlie said. “We have a really good case to keep you out of trouble, especially if you can find a good lawyer.”

“I wonder if Max’s lawyer will help me out again, especially after that stunt I pulled last time?” Ash pondered aloud. “What was his name? George? I liked him.”

“We may be able to pull in a few favours with Mr. Scott,” Jenkins said with a friendly grin. “He was pretty mad that time, but he’s a real softie at heart.”

“Tell him I apologise for being a manipulative asshole,” Ash said.

“We’ll tell him you apologise because family matters got in the way of your better judgement,” Charlie altered his sentiments. “George will understand.”

“Thanks.”

“I must ask though, and this is strictly off record, but… what made you suddenly get up and start running so earnestly?” Jenkins asked, genuinely curious.

“I had to get to the airport,” Ash said. “I needed to see someone… before…”

“Shunichi and Eiji flew back to Japan that afternoon,” Charlie said quietly. He’d been there himself with Max and Jess to see Ibe off. “That’s how we confirmed that Mr. Soo Ling had nothing to do with the incident; he was at the airport seeing Eiji off too and, while he was at the scene initially, he would have been travelling to JFK when the stabbing happened. He went directly from the library to the check-in, judging from the timeframe, and I personally saw him there along with several other street kids known to be affiliated with Ash. We do still need to question him though.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Max said he’d be by later,” Charlie said, breaking the sudden tension in the room. “He was the first one to suggest we check the CCTV tapes. Honestly, the way the man has been pestering me recently, you’d think he was your father!”

“He’s a pain in the ass, is what he is,” Ash said. He hid his reaction, but Charlie referring to Max as being like a father to him gave him a pleasantly warm, fuzzy feeling inside. They’d pretended to be father and son several times as a disguise, but the idea that Max really could be his old man and was acting in an appropriate manner… well, the thought didn’t repulse him. Max had been nothing but supportive since they had first met. Some of it may have just been out of duty, first to Charlie as a favour to an old colleague, and later to Griffin to look after his little brother, but it was a duty he took very seriously with genuine affection and empathy. Even after he’d threatened him with death several times, Max had stubbornly stuck around and helped him out; if it wasn’t for the link to Griffin casting shadows of doubt over his generosity, he would have put him into the same bracket as Eiji as being someone who helped him out of the goodness of their own heart rather than because they demanded anything in return.

“We’ll leave you in peace for now, then,” Jenkins said cheerfully. “I’ll contact George Scott for you and see if I can persuade him to take on your case. It does look fairly open and shut to me though.”

“You just concentrate on getting yourself healthy,” Charlie told him. “We do have more questions for you in regards to the Golzine case when you feel up to it and if you’re willing to co-operate. We’ve arrested some of his employees and have conducted a search of his mansion based on the information leaked to the press, but we have no idea where the man himself might have gone. Still, let’s get you out of hospital and preferably not locked up again first. Oh, also, Nadia sends her regards! She’s been worried about you-”

“Golzine is dead,” Ash said bluntly, cutting Charlie off. “Not my fault either; Foxx shot him. You may want to check out the National Health Institute that burned down two… no, maybe three weeks ago now? The one they sent me to in New Jersey. That’s where he died. Foxx too. Also… there is a restaurant down by the fish market called Club Cod… real favourite place of the rich and famous. You probably know about it already, Max doesn't do things by half when it comes to information and most of those photos were taken there, but take a team and search it thoroughly. Get youth liaison involved and get it shut down. Make that a priority.”

“Ok… well, thanks for the tip, Ash,” Charlie said. He had a strange, wistful expression as he looked at Ash. It wasn’t quite pity, but it was something close to it. Ash had never spoken up about Dino Golzine before, even though they knew he had been victimised and used by the Corsican for years. He noted down the new information in a small notebook he kept in his jacket pocket, scrawling the words ‘National Health Institute’ down in a rough pencil script. "Club Cod we were aware of already, but we'll make our move faster now we have a certified tip-off."

“I’ll… I’ll answer any questions you have about Golzine,” Ash promised. “He’s dead now, so what does it matter.” He looked pained; he’d been avoiding or refusing to give evidence for years, a combination of personal reasons and fear of repercussions preventing him from doing so. Golzine had money, power, and a team of lawyers; Ash had been a street kid with a sick brother to care for, smart enough to know when he was outmatched. A thrill of adrenaline and anxiety coursed through him, an unpleasant sensation, like the bed had just fallen out from underneath him.

“At a later date,” Jenkins promised kindly, reading his expression. “There is no rush. We’ll arrange some formal interviews when you’ve recovered, alright?”

“Can it be done anonymously?” Ash asked. “I don’t want to go to court or have my name given in evidence. Besides… I’m technically ‘dead’. Max told me you guys were not being entirely lawful about that fact, so… might be best for all of us if I remain unnamed, hmm? And there are some things I can’t or won’t answer.”

“Of course!” Jenkins assured him. “Dead men tell no tales after all.”

“We’ll leave you now. I imagine you’re tired and need your rest,” Charlie said. “Also, there is a nurse glaring at me through the window in the door… oh, she’s tapping her watch! We should go.”

“Take care, Ash. We’ll speak again soon,” Jenkins said.

“Likewise, Inspector,” Ash replied.

They left, allowing the nurse to enter with a grumpy expression on her face.

“Police these days have no concept of time…” she muttered mostly to herself.


	3. The Soul Has Bandaged Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. A lot of love for Max Lobo <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

“Hey Kiddo!” Max came for his daily visit in the early evening, usual cheesy grin plastered on his face and a bag of fruit in his hand. “Jessica said I should bring you these, to supplement your diet of hospital food. There’s apples, oranges, and a couple of bananas too. Keep your vitamin levels topped up.”

“It is nasty,” Ash admitted. “Tell her thanks. Also, thanks for paying bail and pestering Charlie about the CCTV. They’ve released me until the trial.”

“Oh, no problem! He really should have thought of that first himself. Speaking of Charlie, he says you have a pretty good case in court, so that’s great news! And George has begrudgingly agreed to take it on, but only – and these are his words – ‘because after everything those two hacks have done it’s a sure-fire win’.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What’s with that attitude? You wanna go back to being jailbait?” Max placed the fruit down on the bedside table and pulled a chair up next to the bed to sit on.

“No, of course not!”

“Did something else happen?” Max looked concerned, frown lines creasing the point between his eyebrows.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Pops,” Ash said dismissively. “I just… I finally agreed to answer some questions the police have about Golzine when I get out of here…”

“You’re going to…?”

“They’ve been trying to get me to give evidence for years,” Ash said. “I never did because-”

“Money and fear?”

“That’s basically what it boiled down to, yeah.”

Max sighed. “Well, after what you went through, I’m not surprised you were scared to come forward.”

“It wasn’t that. I just knew if I did, Golzine would get revenge for it,” Ash explained. “You saw yourself what he was capable of. He had lawyers and money and the support of the Union Course, so apart from some loss of face and a bit of negative press for a while, he’d get off with just a little slap on the wrist. Besides, half the police force were wrapped around his little finger with pockets full of bribes. Anything I said would just be ignored or covered up, and after questioning I would probably mysteriously go ‘missing’ one day, just another lost child with a photo pinned to a noticeboard. I had Griffin to look after, and too many people relying on me to risk talking. If he didn’t come after me directly, he’d have gone after those I hang around with as a punishment instead. I’m still reluctant to talk, if I’m honest… Golzine is gone, but the Union Course is like a hydra – it’ll only grow new heads once one is cut off, but I can’t keep running away.”

“Brave of you to come forward after all these years,” Max commented. “What made you change your mind?”

“I no longer have anything to lose, but everything to gain,” Ash said seriously. Max read the layered meaning in those words. Simplest was that, with Griffin gone, he no longer needed to sell himself for money to fund his brother’s medical care, and neither did he need to keep himself out of trouble to look after him. Meanwhile, Eiji was safely back in Japan and could no longer be hurt or used as a pawn for leverage. Max hid behind the safety net of the press, and his gang were a neutral party with several allied groups who knew how to take care of themselves. “Also, I asked to be anonymous. Charlie and Jenkins are not stupid and I trust them. Besides, most of the people who would suspect me as giving evidence are now gone. Even if it only helps a little, it’s better than nothing. Golzine is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What do you plan to do afterwards?” Max asked him, trying to change the subject away from the loaded topic. “You’re finally free, after all!”

“I… I don’t know,” Ash sighed. He scrunched the fabric of his sheets up in his hands, balling his fists. “What can I do? I know I’m smart and I’ve been well educated, but I don’t have any proper schooling or qualifications, so I can’t go to college. Besides, not to brag, but I think I’d get bored in college learning at the pace they do, and I can’t stand exams. So I guess I’ll get whatever job I can and just take life day by day, I suppose? I haven’t really thought about it. Blanca said I could go to the Caribbean with him, but I know I don’t want to do that. An exiled hermit reading Hemingway all day? No thanks.”

“Blanca… he that huge Russian guy Jess met? She was quite taken with him.”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Ash said. “He’s very charismatic. He’s simultaneously the most ruthlessly dangerous and, besides Eiji, the most kind-hearted person I know. I don’t really understand what he’s thinking half the time. He’s a master of psychology - he reads people like he reads books! He’s definitely someone you’d rather have on your side than as an enemy.”

“Good job he sided with us then.”

“He wasn’t to begin with…”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. Ash’s sudden change of allegiance followed by his extended disappearance now made sense. Ash hadn’t specifically said what was going on at the time, only implied that Eiji was in danger if he didn’t comply. He wasn’t easily scared or intimidated, and it wasn’t the first time Eiji had been in danger either, so it had been strange to see him make a heel-turn that suddenly. He had been desperate, his eyes screaming for help but unable to come up with an alternative to his predicament. Seemed Golzine had hired Blanca to threaten him, and the threat had worked. “So he’s who I have to thank for losing my job!”

“It doesn’t matter now anyway. He’s gone back into retirement and he assures me this time it’s permanent,” Ash shrugged. “With Golzine gone, I can believe it. He had a strange relationship with Dino… I could never understand it.”

“Me losing my job doesn’t matter? Gee, thanks kid!”

“You know that isn’t what I meant!”

“Yeah yeah! Getting back on topic, unemployment or exile aren’t the only options open to you,” Max said. “Ash… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and Jessica and I have been talking… we’re worried about you kid. How would you like to come and stay with us?”

“What?”

“Listen, Newsweek fired me, but on the plus side my probation finally ends in a couple of months! I was thinking about maybe taking up independent journalism again. But I’m not getting any younger…”

“C’mon, you’re barely forty…”

“You little… I’m thirty-three!”

“You look older.”

“Bloody little baby-faced… urgh. Anyway, that aside, I could do with an assistant.”

“Are you offering me a job?” Ash asked. “Aren’t you getting remarried soon? Would I have to move to LA?”

“Not exactly a job. I’ll be freelance, so I get paid by the article and can’t exactly offer you proper employment. I am offering you an opportunity though,” Max explained. “And no. Jess said she’s gonna move back to New York with Michael. She… she was pretty traumatised by what happened to her in LA, so she wants to come back here.”

“I can understand that,” Ash said. The main reason he avoided going back to Massachusetts was the trauma of his past, so it was an emotion and sentiment he empathised with on a personal level.

“We’re looking to get a little place in either Queens or Brooklyn, somewhere on Long Island. We’ll give you a roof over your head, food to eat, and a safe place to stay as long as you need it. Michael would probably enjoy having an older brother around the house too! You seem like the type who’s good with kids. Then, once you’re settled and the police matters surrounding you are clear, and knowing Charlie they’ll be sorted pretty quick, like… if you’re still interested… how about becoming partners? You’re pretty literate as it is, you’re street smart, and you ain’t scared of getting your hands dirty, that’s for sure! I have connections all over the media; you can probably get independent essays and studies published through them easily! You can say no, but… well, I think you’ll be good at it. What do you think? Come be my apprentice?”

“Pops… I… why? Why would you do that for me?”

“I couldn’t leave Griff’s little bro out in the cold, now, could I?” Max shrugged, and ruffled Ash’s hair. “Besides… I’ve grown fond of you, kid. And I owe you my life several times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Fuck – quit it, old man!” Ash swatted his hand away from his head, annoyed.

“Griffin would be proud of you,” Max added. “His little Aslan, all grown up!”

“Griffin… That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to say this for a while… opportunity never came up, but… I owe you a massive apology, Max,” Ash said, straightening his hair back out with his fingers after its brief mussing. To Max, he looked serious, sad, and a little bit nervous. Seeing any emotion on him other than ‘sarcastic’, ‘slightly miffed’ or ‘super pissed’ was rare, but lately he’d been opening up a lot more. He was shaking slightly too, another disconcerting sign of the strong Lynx emotional wall threatening to crash down.

“Uh oh… proper names,” Max quipped. “Shit just got real… But seriously, Ash - what on Earth do you have to apologise for?”

“Because I completely misjudged you,” he replied. “Back in jail, when I first learned who you were, I threatened to kill you – and I would have done too – because of what happened to Griffin. I was a right asshole to you. Then… after what I did to Shorter… I’m such a hypocrite! I didn’t even hesitate...” His voice wavered again, his eyes pricking with that awful, familiar feeling of negative emotion.

“Ash… it’s alright. I understand.”

“You and my brother were best friends, right?”

“The best,” Max said quietly. “Your brother and I… we were real close.”

“What you did to him… you had no choice. I see that now. It isn’t your fault the rest of his life was hell… you thought he had died.”

“…Ash?”

“That must have been difficult for you – not just thinking for years that he was dead, wondering if your actions might have killed him, but then to learn he survived in that… state… only for him to die for real… well… fuck, Max, I’m sorry, alright.”

“I’m sorry too,” Max said. “If I had known then what I know now… I’d have aimed for his head instead of his legs.”

“Knowing what I do now… I’d have thanked you for that,” Ash said sadly.

Max scrutinised the young man sat next to him with a worried eye. He’d been through so much, most of it alone. He had never really opened up to him before; he probably barely talked about his issues at all, at least not to anyone besides Eiji and maybe Shorter at one time. Max could see it was difficult for him. He looked a lot more fragile than when they had first met, full of cracks and holes, roughly patched up with bravado and necessity. Being in a hospital bed didn’t help that image either, the scars being both metaphorical and real. The bad attitude he automatically had, especially towards authority, was simple self-defence. Under that, he was a good kid, but a damaged one. He was plainly trying so hard to stay strong, but the clues were there. He’d seen post-traumatic stress in plenty of soldiers in ‘Nam to recognise the symptoms. The unsteady voice, the shaking… he was close to breakdown. It took Max barely half a second to decide his next move, paternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

“C’mere,” he grunted, and opened his arms wide.

“Eh?”

“Just… C’mere, alright,” Max said, gesturing awkwardly with his hands. “I’m not Eiji, and I’m not Griffin… but I can at least do this.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Ash in a gentle embrace, careful to avoid his wound.

Initially, Ash stiffened, and fought the urge to fight or push Max away. Anyone considerably older than him holding him didn’t exactly dredge up the most pleasant of memories, but it being Max somehow made it different. He smelled of bar soap, old leather, and mild vanilla – a completely different scent to the overbearing cologne, Cuban cigars, and stale sweat he was used to being forcefully enveloped in, and different again from the more delicate smell of clean linen that Eiji seemed to have. There was nothing possessive or predatory in his grip either; it was firm but loose, so he could escape easily if he wanted just by pulling away. It was different to Eiji’s hugs – Eiji was smaller than him, so it always felt like he was still in control, and when Eiji gave hugs they were intimate but almost hesitant, chaste but understanding. It was partly due to his Japanese background, which made hugs an awkward and new experience for him anyway, having grown up in a country where open intimacy and public displays of affection were minimal. When Eiji hugged you, though, you knew he meant it; they were warm and full of unconditional love, and he had no qualms about being close and affectionate with people he liked. The only other person in recent memory to have held him in a positive way was Blanca, the Russian being uniquely protective of him through a combination of pity and intrigue. He had held him once, not long after they’d first been introduced, and that had only been because he was in the middle of an especially bad panic attack. It had been the hug of a concerned therapist, reassuringly bringing him back to reality, but it had lacked familiarity and closeness. This, however, felt more like family, like a father… like Griff... Snug and comforting and safe and provided by someone he knew and trusted. It was a hug he had needed for the longest time. He made a strange, unhappy squeaky noise, and then grabbed the older man around the chest hard in a desperate child-like grip, burying his face into his shoulder.

“That’s it, kiddo,” Max encouraged, stroking his upper back soothingly while he positively screamed years of abuse and grief into the older man’s clavicle. “Let it all out.”

They remained like that for almost twenty minutes before Ash calmed down enough to embarrassedly push Max away. “S…sorry,” he stuttered. He turned away, hiding his face, uncharacteristically flustered. “I… didn’t mean to…”

“S’ok,” Max said with a shrug, similarly embarrassed. The shoulder of his jacket was now rather damp, but he ignored it. “I think… maybe you needed that.”

“I… I’ll come with you,” Ash muttered. “When I leave the hospital.”

“Sorry?”

“Max, I’ll accept your proposal,” he said. “I’ll become your apprentice. I think… I think Griffin would approve.”

“Of course, kid,” Max beamed. “He’d be absolutely stoked.”

“Max…”

“You gotta stop hitting me with these first name terms, Ash – it’s more than a little worrying!”

“Do you think we could get permission to go to Hart Island?”

Max paused for a second, contemplative. Hart Island was the largest public grave in New York. A potter’s field, it was where they took those who died with no next of kin, those who died alone in squalor or had nobody come to claim the body. When epidemics wiped out large numbers of the poor and destitute, it became home to plague pits. It was a huge, impersonal place, with mass graves dug by the inmates at the nearby prison for dirt cheap rates. People buried there were assigned a number, not a name, put in a plain wooden box and were buried stacked into rows with strangers. There were no headstones, very few mourners to bring flowers; it was a place the dead went to be forgotten, and the living had to seek special permission to go there.

“Why would you want to… oh.”

Griffin had died while Ash was in jail. Upon his release, he had been unable to claim the body. Besides which, it wasn’t like he could have afforded a nice funeral for his older brother anyway. It was likely Griffin had been taken to Hart Island. Max hoped that Dr. Meredith had at least given his name to the coroner… it was too depressing to consider the other option that Griff had become an unnamed soldier.

“I’ll get it sorted,” Max promised. “Leave it with me. I’ll find… where he is. I’ll come with you, Ash.”

“…Thanks.”

There was a pause, broken only by Ash sniffing a couple of times.

“Hoo boy, would you look at the time!” Max said, glancing at his watch and standing. “That grumpy nurse will be in here soon to chase me out again. I should probably go home.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, OK?”

“I’m going to get sick of seeing you before too long,” Ash replied, but he smiled as he said it.


	4. If Anybody's Friend Be Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing pays a visit to Ash in hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Ash was allowed to leave the hospital four days later, although he’d have to go back at least once a week for the next month to have the wound monitored. Max had come to visit every day to keep him up to date on what was going on in the real world. He would bring him a couple of daily newspapers and some form of food item each time, and he’d stay for an hour or so shooting the breeze just to keep him company. He brought Jess with him on day two, and she attempted to once again get him to do some modelling work for her, as ‘the ladies love a bad boy’ and ‘trust me – scars sell’. He politely declined the offer by calling her a ‘crazy old bint’, to which she had threatened to punch him in his smug perfect face had he not been in a hospital bed. She was due to return to LA before Ash was discharged to pick up Michael and start making plans to sell the house, so he wouldn’t be seeing her again for a few weeks. Max, in the meantime, had been back to the apartment he had rented with Eiji and packed up his remaining belongings. They were now waiting for him at Max’s apartment; he didn’t own much, really. A pile of assorted clothing, a dozen books, several notebooks full of intellectual thoughts and scribblings, a couple of silly little knick-knacks people had brought him as presents, his IBM computer – easily the most expensive and useful thing he had ever brought - and a handful of photographs Eiji had taken. With the exception of the computer, which had to be carried separately, the entirety of his personal belongings had fit into one large cardboard box and a medium suitcase.

On the third day, Sing had visited.

That had been an unexpected surprise. The last person Ash would have thought to visit him was the young head of the Chinatowners, especially considering the circumstances, but visit he did, alone and slinking sheepishly into the room around noon and carrying a small bag of fresh Chinese bao – steamed meat buns – with him. Ash had initially stiffened in his presence, uncertain if this was going to be pleasant visit or else an invitation to a showdown…

“Hey Ash… erm… can I come in?”

“You’re already in,” Ash said, slightly sarcastically. “But yeah. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Yeah… ehehe…” He was nervous – very nervous. Ash could tell from the way he was having difficulty looking him in the eye. Oh no – he really was here to try and settle things! This would be the third time Sing challenged him to a boss fight. The first time, he’d been cocky and pissed off, and launched straight into battle without a second thought. Ash, grieving and in a terrible mood at the time, had lightly but firmly kicked his ass without any bloodshed as a warning. The second time, Sing had requested a fight in an attempt to keep the peace after Ash had killed two of the Chinatowners, but that was only because they had shot at him and Eiji first, injuring Ash and sending Eiji to hospital fighting for his life. Yut Lung had been the real culprit for that one. However, Sing, taking responsibility as leader, had made the request with dignity, but also a healthy dose of barely controlled terror, knowing that it was a fight he couldn’t win. It had been called off after Ash rescued him from falling to his certain doom during his fight with Foxx, levelling the score. Ash said he hadn’t saved him just to kill him, and the fight was off unless he really insisted it went ahead. Sing had always known he couldn’t beat him in a straight fight, and agreed to the truce. He’d never wanted to challenge him again anyway – he’d only done it to keep his gang safe and to try and mend a few bridges before they burned entirely.

Now, Ash had gone and shot Lao. That wasn’t just another gang member; Lao had been his brother. If he was following the unwritten rules of youth gang leadership, and unless some circumstance had changed while he’d been in hospital, Sing now had no choice but to once again challenge Ash… 

“Listen, Sing… what happened at the library-“

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Sing interrupted him.

“Wait, what?”

“For what happened with Lao… for you getting stabbed… I can’t help but think it was all my fault.”

“Jesus, you’re worse than Eiji…” Ash muttered.

“Huh?”

“What’re you apologising for – it should be the other way around!” Ash chided him. “I shot your brother, man!”

“Only after he shanked you!”

“He was looking out for you and he didn’t like me because I killed Shorter! That’s a pretty good reason to stab anyone!”

“You had no choice! I saw what that drug did to the Lee brothers – the Boss was a goner anyway! I should have just told Lao the truth, then maybe he would have trusted you more and this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Yeah, but I told you not to in a poor attempt to keep you guys out of trouble, and it was that decision which bit me in the ass!”

“Since when have I ever listened to you before?”

“Like, literally all the time! I thank you for trusting someone like me, but maybe you shouldn’t? You’re a smart kid! Make your own decisions in future!”

“Not as smart as you, you fucking nerd! Plus, you’d have kicked my ass if I’d done any different!”

“Are we going to argue all day about who’s most sorry here?”

“Probably!”

There was a moment of silence, both of them glaring at each other, intense green meeting serious deep brown, breathing slightly heavy from the heated back and forth. And then they both suddenly burst out laughing in relief from the ridiculousness of it all.

“Heheh, if you’re able to growl at me like that, you must be on the mend,” Sing giggled. “Here’s me worried about nothing!”

“Ahahaha – ow – yeah, I’m doing well, all things considering,” Ash said, holding his side which stabbed him with pain as he heaved with laughter. “Should be out of here in a day or two.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sing took a seat in the chair by the bed. “I brought baos from the Chang Dai. Nadia said you like them. Thought we could eat them together instead of that crap they feed you in this place they try and pass off as food.”

“Nadia Wong’s steamed buns? Oh maaaaaan – it’s been sooooo long! Last time I had one of those was before I went to jail! Gimmie!”

Sing handed him a still-warm bao wrapped in wax paper, and pulled one out the bag for himself. He chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Seriously though. I’m sorry for the dishonour my family caused you. I tried warning him! I’m upset, and I miss him a lot… but I’m also angry at him. Lao deserved what he got. I don’t blame you,” Sing said seriously.

“What about your boys?” Ash asked, just as serious. “There’s some serious gang honour at stake here. I’ve now caused you to lose several of your numbers…”

“They’re in agreeance with me,” Sing said, holding up one of his hands. “I… erm… I know you said not to, but… after Lao… I figured it would be for the best if I finally told them the real reason you killed Shorter. I thought it would be OK to do so, what with Golzine gone now. And I told them about Yut Lung putting a hit on Eiji. They all agree; everything you did is honourable, they would have done the same, and we want to make peace.”

“Honourable isn’t the word I’d use personally,” Ash murmured.

“Some of them cried, Ash,” Sing said. “Shorter was like a brother to us. You may have pulled the trigger, but you didn’t kill him. A lot of them now feel they owe you for your kindness, and also for getting revenge for us all on those who did that to our Boss.”

“They don’t owe me anything,” he muttered. “I was just doing what any good friend would have…”

“Just warning you now… Honour is important to us, as you know. You will probably receive several apologies over the next few weeks from those who doubted you. You may want to avoid Chinatown for a while if you don’t want to be showered in gratitude and free shit. A lot of people loved Shorter, ya know?”

“Urgh…” Ash bit into his bao with an annoyed expression. He hated unwarranted gratitude, and Asians sure loved to give it! Not a day went by when he didn’t feel immense guilt about Shorter and what he had done. For one thing, Shorter never needed to get mixed up in his problems in the first place. He should have chased after Golzine alone. That way, the Chinese would likely have remained out of it entirely. By seeking their help, he had piqued their interest. His hands would never be clean and there was now a hole in his soul where his best friend had once been… “You know, thinking of Shorter… I think he would approve of you taking his place.” He turned to face the young Chinese boy and regarded him with a small, sad smile.

“Huh?”

“Taking responsibility, being loyal to your friends, trying to settle things with honour so everyone is satisfied and peace restored… you’re a good leader, y’know?”

“No, I’m not…”

“Don’t be humble. I’ve been watching you, and you’re doing alright. You may not think you are, but you are,” Ash informed him. “He’d think so too.”

“Ash, I almost had complete mutiny in my ranks. I had to banish my own brother, and then he went and tried to kill you!”

“Yeah, it’s hard, isn’t it? Leading? You have no idea how fucking annoying it was dealing with Arthur!” He chuckled dryly. Sing snorted with laughter.

“Yeah, I imagine he was a bit of a bitch to handle,” Sing snarked.

“The bitchiest,” Ash smirked. Arthur had not been well liked by most of the gangs, being lustful for power and bloodthirsty as he was. There was a difference between being tough and being an asshole, and Arthur had always found it difficult to tell the two things apart. A lot of people had cheered when Ash had beaten him.

“Oh! I heard from Eiji too,” Sing said. He handed Ash a folded piece of paper, on which was noted an unfamiliar-looking foreign postal address and a phone number. “We exchanged details before he left – I forgot to pass them on. He gave me a call when he got home. He’s back in… what was it called? Gizmo, or something?”

“Izumo,” Ash corrected him.

“Yeah, that’s the place! He’s already started his rehab in Japan – his Mom was absolutely livid with him, apparently! He said she chewed him out thoroughly when Ibe wheeled him off the plane for being reckless,” Sing smirked.

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then,” Ash smirked.

“He couldn’t say much because the exchange rate is killer, but he’s doing well,” Sing assured him. “I… erm… didn’t tell him where you were, but I did tell him I managed to deliver his letter. You should write back at least, man, he deserves that much.”

Ash said nothing, just took another mouthful of steamed bun and stared at his bedcovers pensively. He’d been trying so hard to avoid Eiji, to push him away, thinking it would be best if he was out of his life, but Sing was right. Just ghosting him like this was unfair. He was going to have to write to him or call him or something at some point, but he had no idea what he was going to say. However, the longer they were apart the more he realised exactly how much he missed him…

“The police questioned me too,” Sing shrugged. “Wanted any information I could give them about Lao and why he may have been after you, as well as to ask if I saw anything that day. I was careful what I said – told them it was a disagreement between gangs. They knew Eiji had been shot, so I said it was related to that, which isn’t entirely untrue.”

“Well, that matches what I told them at least,” Ash mused. “I said it was gang rivalry.”

“They didn’t press me all that hard about it, to be honest.”

“Well, for the first time in my life the police are actually on my side, I think,” Ash sighed. “Makes a pleasant change.”

They made small talk a while longer, munching their way through the bao. Sing informed him of what his gang had been up to, which really hadn’t been all that much. They couldn’t come and see him, because several of them had warrants and didn’t want to get caught, but they had sent their regards. Alex was doing a good job at keeping things ticking over in his absence – Ash found him to be a very reliable second-in-command. Cain had returned to Harlem but had maintained their alliance, and several of the splinter groups who had sided with Arthur and had fled were now returning and were negotiating for peace. The last thing he mentioned was that Yut Lung had finally agreed to leave him alone. The last remaining Lee brother had apparently had some form of breakdown; Sing had agreed to help him through his issues and assist his rise to power, but only if he grew up and stopped acting like a spoilt brat. Ash had smirked when Sing said Yut had slapped him – actually slapped him, like a shunned girlfriend – and he had retaliated by decking him back twice as hard, knocking him down. If anyone deserved a smack in the face, it was Yut Lung.

“Just… keep him away from me,” Ash requested. “I get that he had a horrible childhood and it fucked him up. He’s a kid like we are, so I’m willing to give him a second chance if he leaves me the hell alone from now on. I’m trying to stay out of trouble, but if he ever comes near me, after what he did, I can’t guarantee how I’ll react…”

“Noted,” Sing agreed. “I think he’s going to be a shadow boss for the most part anyway.”

Sing left him after about an hour, both of them glad to be back on good terms with each other.

“I’ll seek you out again when you get out of here,” Sing told him when he left. “Get well soon, OK? And for the love of Tianzhu, contact Eiji!”


	5. Those Who Have Been In The Grave The Longest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Ash pay Griffin a visit on Hart Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Max still lived on Newsweek’s dollar in a smaller apartment within the same fancy building Ash had rented with Eiji. He may have been fired, but they at least allowed him to see out his rental period. Because he’d acted as Ash’s official guardian and signed off on their lease, he had already sorted out the rent on their old place, cancelling payments and dealing with the security deposit. Surprisingly, for a place that hosted gang kids on a regular basis, there was minimal damage or cleaning costs; Eiji could be thanked for this. He was incredibly domestic, cleaning the place up and doing minor DIY fixes where necessary. Ash never really appreciated it at the time, but the fact remained that they would go to bed and the living area would be a mess of beer cans and half-eaten snacks from the guys, but when he woke up the following noon the place would be spotless again and breakfast (lunch?) would usually be waiting for him. Eiji had forbidden any of them from graffitiing anything on or in the building, going absolutely ballistic the one time Bones had left a tiny marker tag on one of the walls in their bathroom, and he had forced them to smoke outside. After being mothered by him for several weeks, the street kids said in jest that they understood now why, despite being about as dangerous as a fledgling sparrow, Eiji had never been scared of Ash – it was because, in his own quiet, responsible way, Eiji was probably scarier! Watching him remove blood stains from a pair of jeans like a pro one day, scrubbing with baking soda and peroxide in a sink of cold water with a dark, grim expression… Ash would almost agree with them. They lost a little bit of money from a mystery stain on one of the sofa cushions that he hadn’t been able to get out, but that was all.

Max’s place was a one-bedroomed flat, less than half the size of his old two-bedroom suite and positioned on a lower floor, but it was sizeable enough for the two of them. Eiji had referred to that particular floor as the ‘Batchelor floor’ because it was mainly single working men living there. To keep their old cover and avoid questions, Max switched roles from ‘father’ to ‘uncle’ and pretended that his ‘brother’s business’ was having funding problems, so his ‘nephew’ had moved in with him temporarily until they found a better place. The complex staff and neighbours brought the excuse, and when asked where his ‘nice Chinese houseboy’ had gone after ‘losing his job’, Ash – or ‘Chris’ as they called him – explained he had gone back home to his family for a while.

“That’ll be nice for him,” Mrs. Coleman had said, before passing him a Tupperware box full of excess knishes and kibbeh one day. She had sought out his new address, concerned about the nice young lad who had fallen on hard times. “He often said he missed his sister when we had our little chats.”

“Yeah… he was pretty fond of her,” Ash lied, feeling uncomfortable. Eiji had barely mentioned his sister to him at all, except in passing occasionally when it came up in conversation. He was the older sibling, and gave the impression the two of them were not especially close. Ash didn’t even know her name. However, remembering how Griff had been with him, and how Nadia had been with Shorter… maybe he really had missed her. Had he really been homesick this whole time? Did he keep that little piece of sadness quiet for his sake? He had never intended to be in America for this long, after all. What exactly had he spoken to the residents of this building about while he was busy fighting turf wars?

Thinking about it, Eiji had hardly spoken about his home life at all. That either meant it was idyllic and perfect, so he didn’t want to rub Ash’s nose in his amazing, safe, and loved upbringing. Or else, like Ash’s relationship with his own father, there was more to it than met the eye and he preferred not to talk about it. He felt a little guilty and selfish that he had unloaded all his issues onto him and had never enquired about his life in return. He’d said Ibe had brought him over because he was bummed out about being unable to compete professionally in pole vault any more, but was that all there was to it? He didn’t even elaborate on that either. What stopped him competing? Does someone who isn’t even family really drag you halfway around the world to take photos because you’re feeling a little bit down? Ash had just assumed he was fine, but was he really? You didn’t necessarily need a past full of physical abuse to suffer from mental health, and seeing people who have, objectively, had it worse than you can affect your mindset adversely, especially in people as empathetic as Eiji was. You end up feeling bad about feeling bad because, comparatively, you haven’t had it that bad, and it perpetuates itself in a loop. Ash was now both curious and concerned, hoping that he was just overthinking things.

Max insisted he take the bedroom. He’d already cleared out most of his things to make room for Ash, who at first argued until Max told him his reasons. Max hardly slept in the bed while he was there, the room barely used at all. He usually passed out in front of the TV at night, lying on the sofa with a blanket. He explained sheepishly that he would fall asleep watching old movies to relax in an attempt to stop the ‘Nam flashbacks… He said that, weirdly, apart from when he was with his wife, jail had been one of only a few places he’d actually felt peaceful and able to sleep easily, probably because there were guards and other people around. He didn’t like being alone at night, because that was when his personal demons came out to play. He hoped that, maybe, just having Ash in the flat may help. Ash hadn’t argued since. He had enough demons of his own. He had nightmares even with other people around.

He didn’t bother unpacking much of his stuff, seeing as they’d be moving again in a few weeks. He pulled a few items of clothing out of the suitcase, put his toothbrush and a towel in the bathroom, set his computer up on a vanity table, and left it at that.

The day after he moved in, George visited. He brought an official letter, detailing a court date.

“It’s in three weeks,” the tired lawyer told him, rifling through paperwork and getting Ash to sign a contract for his services. “But you have a good case. Seriously – I think Jenkins has moved Heaven and Earth itself to keep you in the clear!”

“Thanks for taking it on, George,” Max had said gratefully, passing him a mug of coffee.

“I must be mad, getting messed up with you two again…” George had muttered, but he had happily engaged in friendly small talk with Max after the official work was complete.

Three weeks gave Max time to contact the relevant people to organise a trip to Hart Island. Thankfully, Dr Meredith had provided Griffin’s full name, so he was easier to find than many buried on the island. The nice lady who Max spoke to on the phone was able to provide his burial number and location without too much difficulty. They arranged a day to visit, and after Max requested that speed be of the utmost importance and offered to pay for delivery she had a cycle courier bring them the details, including a map and a permission letter.

“We got the green light,” Max told Ash over takeaway boxes of Singapore noodles. “We have a time slot to go to the grave in two days.”

“Thanks, Pops…”

“No need to thank me,” Max said sadly. “I want to go pay my respects as well.”

Two days later saw the two of them take the subway into the Bronx, a bus over the bridge to City Island, and then a ferry from a private pier on Fordnam Street over City Island Harbour. Max had dressed himself up in a smart black suit, as if he was attending an actual funeral, but Ash had just thrown on a clean slate-grey T-shirt and his only un-ripped pair of jeans.

“Griff wasn’t exactly fancy, you know?” he’d reasoned, when Max had raised an eyebrow at his choice of clothing. “At home, I can’t remember seeing him wear anything besides flannel shirts and jeans, other than his uniform on the day he left. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to an actual funeral.”

Max had given Ash the map to follow, while he held a modest bunch of white lilies. Upon arrival, Max had shown the island caretakers their visiting permit, and they had been led to the burial site listed on their letter. The location was incredibly depressing, not helped by the overcast weather, the entire island cloaked in shades of grey and brown. They passed a group of prison inmates in protective jumpsuits and masks digging a pit for an influx of AIDS victims. There had been several mass graves dug in recent years, many of them full of young men, cloaked in body bags and thrown away like garbage. Ash’s expression hardened as they passed the plague pit; he considered himself extremely lucky to have avoided infection, considering his less-than clean and safe life so far. That could have quite easily been him in one of those bags, just skin and bones and disease, the life hollowed out of him over several painful, sickly months. Some of his gang referred to it as an ‘Anally Injected Death Sentence’. He knew of at least two other kids at Club Cod who hadn’t been so fortunate, although one could argue that the drugs or mistreatment had killed them faster than the HIV. It usually took 8-10 years before it became fatal, but the Club prided itself on being a high-end, high class establishment where its rich patrons were safe and well catered for. The minute any of the ‘stock’ was found to be ‘unfit for use’ due to incurable VDs, they were either overdosed and disposed of discretely or, if that method failed, they were simply kicked out onto the streets to die. Addicted to opium, starving and rapidly succumbing to illness, evicted kids never lasted long afterwards. Still, despite him being the scum of the Earth, Golzine had gotten Ash tested when the epidemic started to get worrisome, and had become more selective about who he let sleep with him, upping his price drastically and screening potentials beforehand, getting pissed off when untrusted sources had their way with him on the sly. Ash figured it was more for Golzine’s sake and not his own... you don’t intentionally fuck an infected, and Golzine sure had liked to fuck him, acting like it was something special, a well-deserved treat. As if being wrapped up in silk sheets in a king-sized bed made any difference when you were a child being ass-raped.

His last recent hospital visit had confirmed he still had a clean bill of health, at least where HIV was concerned, and he breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally completely free of his old, dangerous whore life. If he ever had sex again, he would make sure he was safe, would use a condom, and it would be with a partner who cared about him and would make sure that he was also enjoying the act, would be willing to stop if it was uncomfortable, painful, or humiliating, would take no for an answer and not make him feel like he owed them. He could take it slowly, could ask for what he wanted and not feel pressured. Finally having that choice, to be able to pick and choose who he made love to and when, was incredibly liberating. Honestly though, it wouldn’t bother him too much if he spent the rest of his life celibate. His experiences had traumatised him badly, so much so that even thinking about doing it brought him to the verge of panic and left him feeling guilty and dirty. Plus, the only person he really cared about was currently on the other side of an ocean and even with him, while they could and indeed had shared many intimate moments, and while Ash undoubtedly found him cute and would occasionally fantasize, there had never been any real lust or primal urges between them and neither did he want to force them if they weren’t going to happen naturally. Theirs was a deep and very pure form of love, different from eros and stronger than platonic. It would be difficult to explain exactly what they had – the closest description would probably be ‘soulmate’, although Ash would query how anyone with a soul as clean and bright as Eiji’s could ever be compatible with a dirtied and damaged one like his.

Griffin had been buried away from the mass plague sites in one of the public pauper’s pits. People here at least got their own coffin, the box labelled with who they were if known on a little bronze tag, and were stacked in staggered intervals to allow them to be recovered quickly and easily if necessary. Sometimes, lost or absent family will come forward to claim a body after burial, or else a last will and testament is found stipulating the desired end the deceased wanted. They found his location in a recently covered mound. There were no clear markers, the lines marked with a numbered post and not much else, so they had to guess at his exact placement from the map.

“Well. Here we are,” Max said awkwardly, as they stood staring at the heap of disturbed earth. Weeds had started to take root in the turned mud, already reclaiming what was rightfully theirs. “It’s taken me thirteen long years, Griff, but I finally found you.” 

“He’s not the brightest bulb,” Ash smirked. “If a kid could find you by accident before he could with years of searching and more ‘connections’ than you can shake a stick at.” He air-quoted the word connections with his fingers.

“Your brother is an asshole,” Max said jovially. “But he’s charming in his own special way. He’s not at all like I imagined him being from your descriptions…”

“I’m not 4-years-old for one thing,” Ash said sarcastically.

“But I think he’ll turn out alright. Eventually.”

“What do you mean by ‘eventually’, Pops?”

“You weren’t kidding when you said he was ‘wicked smart’ that’s for sure! Sometimes I question his common sense though… he’s rude, very impulsive, and very stubborn.”

“Pops, are you just going to stand here low-key roasting me all day?”

“When we first met properly – not hiding behind a pseudonym – he actually threatened to kill me…”

“I still might!”

“He may be a little wayward, and he had a bit of a rough time without you, but he has several good friends now who will look out for him…”

“Several good friends and one idiot old fart who doesn’t know when to shut up…”

“Less of the old, you brat!”

Ash snorted once as Max glared at him.

“Anyway, Griff, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what happened in ‘Nam. I’m sorry I was forced to disable you. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you before… _this._ But I feel we have finally gotten the justice you deserve.”

“I shot the bastard who drugged you and then killed you. Multiple times. With a machine gun. In the face,” Ash said nonchalantly.

“Yes… erm, yes, he did. Seriously, Ash? In the face?”

“And the chest. The stomach…groin… anything I could hit. I made a bit of a mess.” His expression looked as neutral and cold as ever, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Hatred? Sadness?

“Well, no doubt Dawson deserved it but damn, Griffin, your brother can be a violent little shit!”

“He wasn’t exactly a saint with an AK47 either!”

“He was on drugs!”

“And I was pissed off!”

“See what I mean, Griff! Are you two even related? Because I’m beginning to wonder if someone made a mistake somewhere…”

Ash glared at him with eyes so similar to his brothers, different only in shade, Ash’s being an intelligent viridian green unlike Griff’s muted blue, but both saw way more than they let on, removing any doubt that they were family. Ash was the same age Griffin had been when he and Max had first met, and there was no denying that he looked like a shorter, skinnier, prettier, blonder version of him.

Max sighed. He couldn’t complain; Ash being ruthless is what had gotten them out of that mansion alive. Single-handed, armed with stolen weapons and bandoliers of ammo strewn over his shoulders, Ash had laid waste to several of Golzine’s hired bodyguards and staff, leaving a swathe of destruction in his wake and providing enough of a distraction for himself and Ibe to make a break for it without too much interference (Max had shot two guards at the door but, considering how heavily armed the place had been, and how many Ash had taken down comparatively, it was a drop in the ocean), all of it just to rescue Eiji. He could have just fled with Max and left him behind, but he didn’t – he couldn’t! Knowing what they would have done to him otherwise… he would have been better off dead. Ash would have never forgiven himself if he hadn’t at least tried to get him out of there. He also couldn’t leave the body of his best friend in their hands… they had desecrated the poor deceased Chinese boy enough already. Max figured he must have turned Dawson into mincemeat while searching for Shorter. 

“Mainly though, we put a stop to Banana Fish ever being used again, so nobody else will suffer like you did…”

“We actually tried to steal it so we could sell the information to the press and cause a scene, but a friend of mine dropped it into a fire by accident, so now all we have as proof it ever existed are the notes Max made copies of…” Ash shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be enough to imitate Watergate, but we can maybe manage a minor tabloid scandal that very few people will read or believe.”

“You’re kinda ruining the moment here, Ash.”

“I’m just telling him the truth! Besides, he’s dead - he doesn’t really give a shit.”

“Then why on Earth are we here?!”

“Closure.” Ash said simply. “It… didn’t seem right that he was here with nobody to visit or remember him. I doubt Dad’ll come here, if he even cares. There’s no headstone or plaque or anything. And that’s just depressing. I felt I had to do… something!”

“Did you want to get him disinterred and moved to a nicer site?” Max asked seriously. “Give him a proper grave with a headstone? Maybe back at the Cape? He loved that place, you know.”

“Nah,” Ash said sadly. “He had enough problems when he was alive, without us disturbing him now he’s dead and buried. What difference will it make? Once we’re gone, there’s nobody left to remember him anyway. Let him rest.”

“I’m sure we can think of _something_ to remember him by,” Max said. “Even if his body remains here. How about a plaque on a park bench or something?”

“How about donating some money to his old High School? Chuck enough funds at a school in someone’s name and they’ll hang a plaque. Be a little more meaningful than just sticking his name on a bench, and it may help some kids out with their education.”

“You know… I think he’d like that,” Max said pensively. “He always was the studious sort.”

“I miss him,” Ash said sadly. “I think he and Eiji would have gotten on well. They had similar personalities. It’s a shame they never got to meet properly.”

“Yeah…” Max said reminiscing. Griffin had been the quiet but brave type, just like Eiji. They were both the sort of people who seem normal and plain, maybe even boring, but who left a big impression on the lives of those they touched. They were caring, often to the point where it caused them misery or inconvenience – Griffin, for instance, had sacrificed his own childhood to raise his brother, and Eiji… well, Eiji would die for Ash without hesitation.

They stayed at the grave site in contemplative silence for several minutes, Max placing the modest white bouquet on the earthen mound. They didn’t cry; they had already wept for Griffin several times before, mourning his passing sipping whiskey in a darkened room, or watching sunsets over the New York skyline from a rooftop. Besides, in reality, he had died years ago. It had just taken this long for him to finally stop breathing.

“Shall we go?” Max asked, noticing Ash was shivering slightly. Temperatures had dropped recently, and the wind was picking up, the scent of oncoming rain in the breeze.

“…Yeah.”

They made their way back to the ferry.

Later that week, a cheque for a quarter of a million dollars was sent together with a letter to Nauset Regional High School in North Eastham. Ash had used a portion of his remaining stolen stocks and shares to fund it, the letter written by Max explaining who it was in honour of but not who it was from. The school used it to overhaul their sports facilities, and a fancy plaque in honour of Griffin and the other alumni who had fought in Vietnam was erected in the gym. They had held a small ceremony, the veteran survivors of the war there to unveil it. Surprisingly, Jim Callenreese actually went to visit it, a friend with a child at the school telling him about it at the diner. Jim knew exactly who had sent the money; he would never admit it, maintaining an act of gruff indifference, but he was glad at least one of his sons was still alive. He’d all but convinced himself as he lay in hospital recovering from his gunshot wound and stoically mourning his dead wife that his little Aslan would have been captured and killed by now, considering the people who were after him. He’d looked thin and weak the last time he’d seen him, a blonde twink with no substance, like a stiff breeze would blow him over. He certainly didn’t look like he could take on the mafia, but his youngest son must have inherited his pig-headedness when it came to surviving. It made him proud.


	6. The Court Is Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash's court day finally comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Apart from mandated hospital visits to have his stitches checked, Ash didn’t really venture out much between visiting Griffin and his court date. He had been weirdly quiet recently; not the dangerous, calm quiet he often became when he lied or mulled risky options over, full of raw intensity, but rather an anxious, tense one, edgy and tainted with sadness. It was strange, and a little worrying to see him like that. He still bantered if someone else initiated it, and replied to questions asked using primarily sarcasm, but he seemed to be missing something important, like his personality had been blunted. It was like seeing a cat that had been declawed. The only other day he spent any length of time out of the apartment was when Charlie called him in for his formal interview on the Golzine case. He had spent the better part of a morning spilling everything he knew anonymously to Charlie and Jenkins. He had to stop regularly for breaks, partly due to the length of time it took, but mostly so he could recompose himself to continue. Many of the topics discussed were traumatic and difficult to talk about, and by the end he found he was shaking uncontrollably, the half-moon marks of his nails digging into his palms deep and painful. Max had offered to go with him for support, but he adamantly refused it, saying this was something he needed to do himself. Afterwards, he visited the hideout for a couple of hours, where he spoke to Alex for a while and got himself updated on what had been going on. Seeing Alex and the others calmed him down; the gang had shared a few jokes and expressed joy at seeing him up and about again. He played a few rounds of pool and made some suggestions to Alex for what direction the gang needed to go from here. Then he had nipped into the library on his way back to pick up half-a-dozen reference books on an extended lease. The staff who had been on duty the day he was stabbed voiced their relief that he was patronising the library again so soon, and apologised that they hadn’t realised he needed help earlier. We waved their apologies away with the barest hint of a smile.

“You know, at any other time I’d have been really grateful that you left me to sleep,” he quipped. The librarian didn’t see the funny side somehow.

He mostly stayed in Max’s apartment holed up in the bedroom on his computer, typing up documents and reading, scribbling down notes and statistics in his notepad. Max asked him what he was up to and he said independent study; he said it relaxed him and kept his mind occupied. He used it as a coping strategy. He used to do it a lot; just pick a random subject and try to learn as much about it as he could. Max asked what he was studying and he replied vaguely with ‘geopolitics’. After that, Max left him to his own devices. Most of his books were about the Soviet Union, so it didn’t appear like his subject choice was related in any way to recent events. He had literally picked a random topic purely to kill boredom and stress. During his time in self-imposed lockdown, he had written two essays of his opinions and had started on a third.

“You predict a global superpower like the Soviets will collapse by the early 90s?” Max had queries after reading one of his papers.

“The Soviet people don’t like Gorbachev much, although from an American perspective he’s decent and one of the best leader’s they’ve had. However, once they start disarming their nukes, I think it’ll go downhill for them from there,” Ash had reasoned.

“It’s a convincing argument, I’ll give you that, but you really think they’ll give up their nukes?” Max had shaken his head in disbelief.

“Maybe not all of them, but you saw what happened at Chernobyl,” Ash said. “Bit of a wake-up call to the Commies about what one of those bombs could do. People are a little jumpy about radiation right now. Plus, Reagan is pushing for disarmament to end the Cold War and Gorbachev is listening.”

“I’m still not convinced the Union will fall.”

“It will. It’s becoming too unstable and leaning more towards capitalism – it can’t sustain itself that way for long before people start rioting.”

Max had shrugged. Next thing, the kid will be saying the Berlin wall would be pulled down!

*

His court date came around with alarming speed, days seeming to merge into one until, suddenly, it was time to go.

“Are you nervous?” Max had asked him at breakfast that morning.

“I’ve been in front of a judge before,” he replied curtly, ripping a square of toast in half. He hadn’t eaten anything; he’d been sat there for nearly fifteen minutes reducing slightly-charred bread into crumbs with his fingers. This would be his third slice.

“That’s not what I asked,” Max countered. He sighed, lowering his fork to regard the obviously edgy young man sat opposite him. He was still in his pyjamas, the oversized shirt hanging from his slim frame and making him look especially svelte and childish. He looked pale, like he hadn’t slept well for a few nights, and the skin around his eyes and jaw looked tense, tiny worry lines marring his otherwise flawless features. “It’s alright to be nervous you know.”

“I’m not,” he lied, staring at the crumbs on his plate.

“Well, I am,” Max told him honestly. “This afternoon, you could be in jail again.”

“What happened to all that positive thinking earlier?” Ash muttered. “George said I had a good case. I just have to put my faith in him. And if I do end up behind bars… well, can’t say I didn’t deserve it.”

“Ash…”

“I’ve killed people, Max,” he said quietly. “You know I have. A lot of people. It scares me how easy it is.”

“So have I,” Max said seriously. “Many people, some of whom probably didn’t deserve it. It is scary. But it doesn’t mean either of us belong in a cage.”

“Little bit of a difference between being a soldier and being a no-good punk,” Ash murmured. “Maybe I belong in jail.”

“There’s not that much of a difference,” Max replied. “Defending a nation is no different from defending yourself. Only difference is I get praised as a hero afterwards, which is just stupid. I’m many things, but a ‘hero’ isn’t one of them. I never asked to be sent out there, same as you never asked to be abused as a child and dragged into organised crime. Both of us are paying for our so-called crimes already, every day, when the darkness comes at night, or during quiet moments alone. When you kill someone… well, that shit sticks with you. And it’s a weird feeling. It’s like… like you don’t feel anything, and yet you feel unpleasantly numb. I think if you feel anything other than that, if you enjoyed it in any way, then you have something wrong and either need help or need locking up. But if you do, if you feel that strange sensation of hurt, that survivor’s guilt… well, in a way you’ve already atoned. Or more accurately, you are atoning. Because that feeling, like you’re broken inside, feeling like you’re wrong for not feeling anything? That is a punishment in itself.”

Ash didn’t reply, just stared at the table pensively. Max’s words had resonated loudly with him, that feeling of hollowness all too familiar. He hadn’t realised that it was normal, or normal for someone in his situation at least. All these years he’d felt like a monster because he’d felt _nothing,_ and he continued to feel _nothing_ every time, when actually that feeling of _nothing_ was a very strong feeling of _something._ It was a _something_ Max apparently shared and understood. He’d tried explaining it to Eiji before, and Eiji had assured him that he wasn’t a bad person, like he thought he was, and that he was actually hurting a lot inside. The _something_ had gotten considerably stronger after he shot Shorter, now mixed with personal loss and lamentation, and had been almost overwhelming since Lao had stabbed him. The _something_ was regret, denial, guilt, sadness, shame, fear... He suddenly felt very human, and strangely vulnerable.

After picking at his breakfast, Ash had a quick shower and got ready to go. Max hadn’t seen him dress that smartly since Golzine had forced them all into tuxedoes, and he’d frequently seen him using high-branded fashion as a disguise. Somehow, while he undoubtedly looked good, he always looked slightly rebellious and scruffy, even when dressed in fancy duds. Maybe it’s because he tended to size clothing up so it fit in a slightly baggy way, using the fabric to hide a part of himself. There was always an intensity to him he could never quite quell too, an edginess born from experience. Now, though, he looked tidy and endearing. He’d neatly brushed his hair back and found amongst his possessions some black shoes, black trousers, and a slim-fitted blue dress shirt that Max recognised from somewhere but swore he had never seen Ash in before. His suspicions were confirmed when Ash blushed slightly and said quietly: “It was Eiji’s. He left it behind. It must have got mixed in with my things.”

“Do you normally dress up this nicely for court?” Max asked.

“Only when there’s a chance I may be found not guilty,” he responded. “The last time I was in the box, I didn’t really get the option to dress up nicely as they wouldn’t release me from custody. I was stuck with ripped jeans and sneakers and a borrowed shirt from the hospital lost-and-found because my own had been wrecked. It didn’t really matter though; I was framed and it was a lost cause from the start. Fact remains I probably would have killed Marvin if someone else hadn’t got there before me. After the years of shit and… and trauma he gave me and others like me, the fat bastard deserved it. I would have first shot his dick off, and then I would have killed him. The trial was over in ten minutes, open and shut with the cops’ word against mine, the verdict already decided before I went in. Plus, I didn’t have a proper lawyer. I couldn’t afford it and the fucking corrupt inspector was bribed by Golzine and pulled all the strings. Jenkins and Charlie both tried to help me out, but that red tape man… Best they could do at the time was get you involved and just try to get my sentence shortened afterwards.”

“Jesus…”

“I kinda want to give a good impression this time,” Ash said sheepishly. “I’m fed up of always being seen as a bad boy. I never wanted to be… well, _me_.”

“C’mon then,” Max said encouragingly. “Let’s get going.”

They took a cab to the courts. George met them there with a pleasant smile and some positive vibes, his brown suit barely covering his rotund belly. He said the judge today was a good man and known for being fair. He hoped it would be a fairly cut and dried case with a quick and simple judgement - the jury would be given his backstory and there were a couple of character witnesses Charlie had convinced to give evidence in his favour. Max patted Ash reassuringly on the shoulder before leaving him.

“I’ll be cheering for you from the public gallery,” he said amiably. He looked back briefly at Ash as he climbed the stairs to the public gallery entrance, standing by George with a melancholy air while George talked him through the case, prompting him with what to say and what to do.

He looked very young, and very lost.


	7. All The Letters I Can Write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overstaying a visa proves to be a problematic roadblock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

“I hate my life,” Ash said once they got back to Max’s flat. He had been quiet on the way back from the courtroom, contemplating the ruling silently to himself. The witnesses Charlie had asked included someone he recognised as a librarian, who acted as a character witness, claiming he was a civil and studious regular who had never caused any issues in the library. They could confirm they had seen him there both before and after the incident, and they would never have guessed he was involved with gangs because he was usually really polite, seemed like a smart boy, and could be found at the library at least a couple of times a week quietly reading. The other witness was Sing Soo Ling, pleading that Ash was not at fault, holding up his hands and laying the blame squarely on his brother. Sing had been pretty passionate in his insistence. His crime had been downgraded from murder to justifiable manslaughter, and the punishment had been adjusted accordingly. The trial had been completed within three hours, the jury deciding unanimously in his favour after some back-and-forth secret discussion. A couple did query before deciding, saying he ‘looked an awful lot like that brute in the news who died’, but because the media had reported him by his pseudonym and the courts used his real name, they didn’t twig it was the same person. Sing, while surprised to find that his real name was ‘Aslan’, was smart enough to call him by it in court to keep those connotations separate. Nadia had wisely suggested that tactic to him prior to him giving evidence, but Ash still found it weird hearing Sing call him by his true name. His remaining minor crimes had also been discussed, Charlie stating that, overall, Ash’s influence on the street gang scene had actually lowered the crime and homicide rates in recent years, although recently the effects had been less obvious due to outside influences. Most of his remaining crimes were petty and, as Max had predicted, he’d been passed a hefty fine. They’d paid it off in full using some of the stolen mafia funds, which were running out at a rapid pace of knots as they spent or donated it. Then again, a large portion of the funds had paid for weapons and resources in the battle against Foxx. The same amount again had gone on payment for the flat, fancy foods, photography equipment, and clothing for disguises. At first, Ash had been relieved at the verdict, but the more he thought about it the more disappointed he had become. He dropped onto the sofa heavily and groaned.

“Considering you killed someone, a year of probation isn’t too bad,” Max said positively, patting him on the shoulder. Ash was just moaning because, while he was now a free man, he still wasn’t as free as he would like. “No jail time. A few little travel restrictions. Just try and stay out of trouble for a year and you’ll be in the clear.”

“But an entire year, Pops!” Ash moaned. “I know I’m lucky, but I was hoping I could at least leave the country…”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen for a while,” Max nodded. He had a pretty good idea of where he wanted to go. “Do you even have a passport?”

“I did, but it was at Dino’s place. He took me to a few places as a trophy, so I had the necessary paperwork to travel, but it’s locked away in his mansion somewhere. I’d need to apply for a new one.”

“We’ll get a new one sorted for you,” Max promised. “That’s easy enough, at least.”

“Knowing Eiji, he’ll come back here again to visit once he’s recovered anyway,” Ash said with a certain level of hope in his voice. “Then he’ll seek me out like a… like a… like a Lynx-seeking missile or something. He’s like a bad penny!”

“Ah, about that… I did mean to tell you, but…”

“What?”

“Well… he and Shunichi overstayed their visas,” Max said, taking a seat on the sofa next to him. “I had a call from Shunichi a few days ago, just checking in, letting me know he was back in Tokyo for a while and his editor had loved his photographs. I asked if he and maybe Eiji would be coming back to visit soon, and he said they couldn’t. He said he thought he’d gotten it sorted when we were in Cali, but apparently he miscalculated and the application bounced or something, and then we got taken prisoner and the whole thing became a mess of running and hiding with no set address. You attempted to get them a second extension too, when you tried sending them back before you got stabbed the first time so they wouldn't get in trouble at immigrations, but that failed as well because their previous one was misplaced, which meant the paperwork monkeys had nothing to work with. I think being friends with the police allowed them to slip through the American security checks - they only found out when they got back and went through Japanese customs. The two of them exceeded their allotted time by over six months.”

“Seriously?” Ash said guiltily.

“They’re not being prosecuted because they went home willingly, plus there is a paper trail of Shunichi attempting to renew their stay allowance, although it goes stone cold in LA, and Eiji’s injury has won them some leeway, but by federal law they can’t come back to the States legally for at least three years,” Max shrugged. “Shunichi tried to protest it, but was unsuccessful. He kept it quiet until the verdict was made official, which is why I only found out about it recently, and I didn’t tell you because you had too many things to worry about already. They’re both stuck in Japan for the time being, as getting any visa is tricky once you have a record.”

“That won’t help Ibe with his photojournalist career, will it?”

“He said he was quite happy staying in Japan for the foreseeable future,” Max said. “America really did a number on his anxiety. He sounded relieved to be back in a country without guns and where he didn’t have to internally translate everything said to him.”

“Must be nice.”

“Hey, cheer up! At least you can write letters to each other,” Max shrugged. “Sing gave you his address, right? And I can always ring Shunichi if necessary! It’s about time you contacted him in some way. It’s been, what, at least a month now? Poor kid’s going to start thinking you hate him!”

“I’m not even sure where to begin with a letter,” Ash said. “I’ve never been much good at writing them. I’m a technical writer – I don’t do fluff!”

“I wouldn’t say that – you wrote some lovely ones to your brother in Vietnam,” Max smirked.

“I was four,” Ash said, embarrassed. “They were all crayon drawings and me talking about a fucking butterfly I saw or some shit!”

“And they were wonderful,” Max tittered. “Griff showed me every single picture you sent. He kept them all! My favourite one was the rainbow, with the sun in the corner of the page!”

Ash flicked him the bird, a light blush dappling his cheeks.

“C’mon, they were cute!” Max insisted.

“I can’t exactly mail Eiji a crayon drawing of two stick guys holding hands and tell him I pet a dog today, can I?” Ash griped.

“Well, you could. He’d probably think you’d gone nuts, but… you could.”

“I wish I was more like Griff. He would send these 10-page documents every week detailing every little happy thing he did, plus several poems and sketches and even pop-quizzes for me to do,” Ash reminisced. He sounded annoyed, but the nostalgic look on his face said otherwise. “Where did he even find time to write all that out there?”

“He was always writing,” Max said fondly. “Every time we stopped for a break, he’d have his notebook out, scribbling away some thought or feeling. Every evening, quietly documenting everything…”

“Fucking nerd…” Ash snorted.

“Says the child genius,” Max retorted. “Pot kettle black much?”

“Shut up!”

“It doesn’t really matter what you write, you know,” Max laughed. “It doesn’t have to be poetic sap or anything special.”

“I know, but…”

“He made it awkward with his last letter, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Then I don’t know what to suggest,” Max shrugged. “But if you ignore him for too long, you may end up losing the best friend you’ll ever have.”

“That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Ash,” he said dismissively, changing the subject. “Right now, I’m just glad I’m not behind bars again.”

“You and me both, kid – without me looking out for you, you’d be a sitting duck!”

“Last time I was inside, I started a riot in the mess hall, kicked the shit out of a prison rapist, and stabbed a thug in the dick with a fork,” Ash said, deadpan. “I don’t remember you helping me out much then. I think I’d be OK.”

“I was a deterrent!” Max insisted. “Face like yours gathers a lot of attention. I stopped a lot of people from approaching you and causing problems!”

“You fucking decked me!” Ash countered. “Not sure I’d call beating up a teenager a deterrent – more like the problem in question!” He didn’t add that Max had also attempted to strangle him on one occasion too, overpowering him easily in a moment of blind rage. They had silently vowed to never talk of that incident again. Even at the time, Ash had recognised it as being an especially bad PTSD flashback and didn’t hold it against him. The fact it was related to Griffin, Max screaming at him for essentially twisting his memories of his best friend, inflaming his already massive sense of guilt over the incident, confirmed to Ash that he was hurting inside a lot over what had happened. That one event, short and violent and raw, although purely accidental, had made him re-evaluate his opinion of Max; prior to that he had been concentrating wholly on him being a traitor to his brother, thinking of him as this horrible person who had abandoned a friend in a time of need. Afterwards, when he saw how regretful and sorry Max had been, his voice tired and resigned when he said he didn’t care anymore if Ash wanted to kill him… he felt pity, and more than a little bit of shame himself, as well as a tiny bit of fear that Max had been able to overpower him that easily when provoked. Griffin was not exclusively his, and other people had loved him as well. Circumstances and situations, as well as duty and necessity, could be cruel mistresses, and hindsight, wondering what you could have done differently if given another chance, is both beautiful and terrible. Later, when Max had spoken of the war in hushed tones as he mourned Griffin over a glass of harsh scotch, Ash finally realised that he had projected his hate onto Max because it was the only name he had to go on. Max had been a prominent feature in his brother’s letters, and his name was one of only a few coherent things Griff would yell out during his episodes, that and the words ‘Banana Fish’, as well as mumbled apologies and single syllable things like ‘shot’ and ‘legs’. That was how he had figured out it had been Max who crippled him. He hadn’t heard the situation from both sides and he didn’t know the nature of his brother’s drugging. He had to blame _someone_ , he just didn’t know who. 

“Well, I… erm…”

“Water under the bridge, Pops,” Ash waved him away dismissively. “I’ve had worse than your little love taps.”

“I held back.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” Ash smirked at him, delighting in the fact he was clearly making the older man feel uncomfortable.

“Enough!” Max said, flustered. “That’s in the past. We should be celebrating the now! How about… Yeah! Why don’t we go to Grand Central for dinner? Get something fancy to commemorate our win?”

“I think I’d rather stay in for once and order a pizza,” Ash said. “And I want ice cream.”

“That sounds good too,” Max agreed. “Stefano’s for delivery?”

“Naturally! Leo does wicked good pizza!”


	8. One Crown That No One Seeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash steps down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

“Hey, Alex, can we talk?”

Ash found the brown-haired young man playing pool in the Pink Pig with a couple of members of the Chinatowners. Alex was now in his early twenties, but he still deferred to Ash as boss. Alex had been the one to welcome Ash into the gang originally, and he’d been his second in command ever since he’d been made gang leader almost four years ago. He was the oldest boy in the gang currently, with Kong and Bones coming in close seconds both aged 20. Ash had always trusted him to make wise decisions in his absence before and he’d never steered them wrong yet, although some of the actions he and the others made during the Banana Fish incident were… well, he was grateful for their enthusiasm and loyalty, but he would have left himself for dead instead of planning a rescue together with a Japanese tourist if he was in the same position. What that said about himself as a person he wasn’t sure.

“Sure Boss.” Alex handed his pool queue to one of the Chinatowners and gave Ash his full attention. “What’s up?”

Ash gestured with a thumb for him to follow him, and the two of them went out into one of the Pig’s back rooms where it was quieter. Ash sighed, still trying to figure out exactly how he was going to do this.

“How long have we known each other, Alex?” he asked eventually, staring at a stained spot on the wall.

“I dunno, maybe seven… eight years?” Alex replied. They’d met when Ash had just turned eleven. He’d managed to sneak out of Club Cod – just for some respite, not seriously looking to escape. He was smart enough to know that was impossible. Alex had stumbled across him hiding behind some dumpsters by the river, sat on a plastic milk crate as he watched the Hudson greasily drift by. They’d got talking, or more accurately they sized each other up, each of them wary of the other at first, but Alex eventually took pity on the taciturn pre-teen and his attitude softened. It was apparent fairly quickly that the young Ash was unaffiliated with any rival gangs. He had been skinny and didn’t look especially strong, his limbs like twigs, but his eyes had been sharp and intense, fierce chips of peridot judging him silently and deeming him a friend instead of a foe. Alex had found him hiding in the same spot several other times before, eventually, he’d invited him to come and meet the rest of the gang. Ash had initially been dubious about leaving the riverside area; the Club staff would not hesitate to hunt him down and the punishment would be severe. Just being outside was risky enough, but at least if they found him here he could claim he was just getting some air. As long as he didn’t resist or try and run, he’d likely get away with just a couple of smacks and they may lock him up for a few days. Over several weeks and repeated meetings, Alex had encouraged Ash over and over to follow him to their hideout, but he kept refusing.

One day, after he’d had an especially rough night with a less-than-gentle client and was feeling rebellious, he finally said ‘fuck it’ and had gone with him. Alex had introduced him to the other boys, most of whom had welcomed him warmly, and for the first time in several years he had people his own age he could call friends and rely on. Most of those kids had homes and families of their own that they went back to when the mood struck them, but rough neighbourhoods and domestic violence had led them to run together on the streets, a close-knit band of urchins frequenting the arcades and pool halls, underage drinking into the early hours, crashing out on each other's couches and floors when they had no place to stay. They didn't always act legally; they were a neutral party who made money drug-running and threatening punks who deserved it, sometimes even working for Golzine himself if the pay was right, but they had formed their own little family of sorts and it called out to Ash. He started to escape to hang out with them more and more, careful to always return to the Club before the evening punters came in, lest they start drugging him like the less compliant kids. Being a good little whore brought its perks, one of them being that the staff usually turned a blind eye to his daytime disappearances as long as he returned, so he worked hard, hating himself every second as he swallowed his fear and panic, gaining popularity with the clients for his saucy ways and sexy appearance. It would be another year before Golzine discovered his talents were far greater than just giving blowjobs, removing him from the Club and offering him even greater freedom of movement to do as he pleased. He rose through the gang ranks, Alex a staple at his side, his best friend until he met Shorter in Juvie and his number of trusted confidants grew. He dethroned Arthur in a duel when he was fifteen, right after he was released from Juvie, challenging him for honour and revenge. Arthur had been the reason he’d been arrested, framing him for murder, recognising Ash as a threat to his throne. Ash had never asked for nor wanted leadership, but his response to being set up was to sever the tendons in Arthur’s fingers and usurp his position.

“Almost eight years, huh?” Ash said, smiling. “And I’ve been leader for over three of them. It feels so much longer!”

“That’s quite a long time to be boss, to be fair,” Alex said pragmatically. One thing Ash liked about him is he didn’t mince his words. He was a realist, not a fan of dancing around the truth. “Being boss makes you a target. Lots of ‘em die young.”

“People have tried,” Ash said. “Some have gotten real close to succeeding.”

“You survived though.”

“I’m infamously hard to kill.”

“Works to our advantage,” Alex shrugged. “People know not to mess with you.”

“Alex, after what happened recently, people know not to mess with any of us. A lot of kids were affected. The streets ended up united against a common enemy. And it wasn’t me that initiated that…”

While he had originally extended friendship to Cain Blood, most of the recent truces, especially with the Chinatown mafia, had been because of Eiji. Ash knew better than anyone that his naivety and natural kindness threw people off guard. You just couldn’t say no to him. And when he had been shot… it had upset more than a few of them.

“Boss?”

“Alex, I’m stepping down as leader.”

“What?” Alex blinked, shocked. His mouth hung agape, his narrow eyebrows furrowing. “Ash… why?”

“I feel I’ve lost my edge,” Ash said simply. “A lot of people got involved in some dangerous shit because of me. Too many of us died because of my mistakes and my leadership.”

“More would have died without you!” Alex insisted.

“That whole mess would never have happened without me,” Ash countered. “Besides, I’m just a stone’s throw away from ending up in jail. I got lucky, but one wrong move and I’m behind bars. I finally gained my freedom. I can’t afford to throw my life away any more.”

“Ash…”

“Alex, I want you to take over from me.”

“Ash… I can’t!”

“You have been my second in command this whole time. You look after these guys far more than I do anyway. You are the boss in all but name already! You are more than capable. And it’s not like I’m leaving entirely – you can take the boy out of the streets but not the street out of the boy! I’ll still be around to advise you. We’re still friends! It’s not like I’m going to vanish into thin air.”

“Ash!”

“I trust you, Alex!” Ash said seriously. “Please. Make me proud.”

“I… I’ll do what I can.”

“Good.”

“When are you going to tell the others?”

“Organise a gang meeting for tomorrow evening. I’ll make it official then.”

“Will do boss… Ash…”

“Thanks Alex.”

*

The following evening, Ash’s gang gathered for the last time under his leadership at the hideout. They were joined by the Chinatowners, Black Sabbath, plus a few members of several other recently allied gangs, such as the Italians and the Puerto Ricans. He announced his abdication, much to the upset of his boys and the surprise of Sing and Cain. All had argued against it, pleading with him to stay on as boss, but he refused. He officially passed power over to Alex, asked if anyone had any objections and received none, or at least none that said someone other than Alex should be in charge. All of them wanted him to stay on as boss but he firmly said no, he was done. His only request was that the allied gangs maintained their friendly ties, and the leaders had all been happy to comply; peace was always better than rivalry anyway, so they agreed that the cease fire would remain in place.

His boys unanimously told him that, while Alex was their leader now, he would always be their Boss. Bones had cried, wailing that it would not be the same without him, but he had settled when Ash explained that he hadn’t left, he just wasn’t in charge any more. He’d always be their friend and he’d still advise Alex and the others on the best courses of action, he just wouldn’t be around as much as before and was no longer calling the shots. He then gave them the remaining embezzled funds from Dino’s stocks and shares as a peace offering. Cain had shook his hand, practically crushing his fingers, and declared that ‘for a honky, you’re alright, Lynx.’ Ash considered that the highest form of praise from the notoriously racist Cain.

They had spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and reminiscing into the early hours, the leaders welcoming Alex and recalling some of Ash’s finer, or scarier, moments.

*

“Have you contacted Eiji yet?” Sing had asked him the following morning.

Most of the boys had crashed out on the floor of the hideout, drunk and happy. Ash had woken up sandwiched between Cain and Alex to find Sing handing out toast to his boys; while most of them were technically not legal to drink yet, Sing was one of their youngest and had kept his drinking to a minimum. Therefore, he was relatively fresh faced compared to the hung-over Asians surrounding him and moaning like zombies as he passed the slightly burned slices around. Ash had also remained relatively sober; he didn’t enjoy being drunk anyway – too many bad memories of parties he’d been forced to attend by Golzine, of wine and champagne he’d been made to drink - so had nursed a small bottle of Corona all night and just enjoyed the company of friends instead. It had been a while since they’d been able to just kick back and relax like this.

“I haven’t, no,” Ash admitted.

“Seriously?” Sing sounded disappointed. “You really should! He’s sent me two letters already!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think we’ve become, like, pen-pals or something,” Sing admitted. “He said he was taking a gap-year from college to recover from America.”

“Oh.”

“He was off too long and has to restart his course or something. He said something about changing his major. He was pretty vague.”

“He was absent for quite a long time…”

“Anyway, you should write to him! He misses you, you know. He’s been asking me how you are. He found out you’d been stabbed… I think that photographer guy must have told him, so I said you were alive. I’ve told him to ask you for more information himself, but I think he’s waiting for you to make the first move, man.”

“I’mma write to Eiji…” Bones murmured, slurring in a drunken haze and rolling over. He grinned, his missing front teeth enhancing his canines and making him look like a sleepy cat. “I’mma write him, tell him I miss him.”

“We all miss him, I think,” Alex said, rubbing his head and letting out a pained groan. “Little fella was great!”

“We should all write to Eiji!” Bones cheered. “Everyone in the gang! We should send him, like, a huge American care package, full of candy and shit! Let’s send him so many letters he can’t move for all the post in his house!”

“I didn’t know you could write?” Kong teased him, earning himself an annoyed slap.

Ash snorted, but they all had a point; he really needed to contact him.

Trouble is, he was still at a complete loss as to what he was going to tell him. Every time he had sat down and tried to write a letter, the words would not come.


	9. He Forgot And I Remembered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess and Michael move back to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Max and Ash moved out of the apartment once Max’s tenure ended. They migrated into a modest house in Queens. It was nothing special, just a three-bed family place with a medium-sized yard for Michael to play in. Ash had been designated his own room, Max not asking for even a dime in rent, which he was eternally grateful for. His reasoning was that Ash would be working for him essentially for free, his only income being a small percentage of whatever they got published or from whatever he earned himself through private essays and articles, so the least he could do is offer him room and board. Between them, they had moved furniture in and done some decorating to ready the place for Jess and Michael. After they arrived from LA, the house got decidedly livelier. Max had been right about Ash being good with kids; Michael instantly remembered ‘Uncle Ash’ as being the nice boy who had comforted him in LA after the nasty Chinese men had broken in and hurt his Mum. He had hugged him round the legs when he first saw him again, and had taken to following Ash around like a lost puppy, curious about everything he was doing.

Ash was a sap when it came to Michael. Towards adults and most of his peers, he had always been harsh, sarcastic and intimidating, a force to be reckoned with. With a young child however… he became pliant like putty in their hands, smiling and friendly and patient, trying to fulfil their every request if it was in his power to do so. He had happily shown Michael around his city, taking him around Central Park riding on his shoulders, showing him his favourite places in Manhattan, getting him signed up for a library card and buying him his first New York hot dog. Max told him later he reminded him of Griffin.

“There’s just… something different about you when you’re in charge of a kid,” he’d said. “You seem… I dunno. Softer?”

“I’m just me, Pops,” Ash replied. “The same prickly hard-ass you know and tolerate.”

“No… I can see Griff in you,” Max smiled.

“Fuck off – Griff was a saint! And I’m… well, I’m not.”

“You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”

At home, he would play games with Michael, teach him new skills and tell him stories. He babysat when Max and Jess went out and would take him to school if Jess was busy with work, although admittedly those days it was more Michael taking Ash to school rather than the other way around, Ash still in a half-asleep daze after Michael would barge into his room, jump on him in bed, then push him out of it into the cold, cruel, unforgiving morning. He’d usually livened up a bit by the time they’d walked the short distance to Michael’s elementary, but he’d often stop at a local coffee house on autopilot to buy himself a strong americano on the way back. He’d told Alex about Michael’s harsh alarm clock ability, to which Alex had said there had only ever been three people in existence either brave or clueless enough to wake him in the morning, those people being Skipper, Eiji, and now the young Michael Glenreed. Ash insisted he wasn’t that bad in the mornings.

“Boss, you scarier than a bag of cobras and twice as mean!” Alex told him.

“I punched Bones once by accident and now you’re all cowards!”

“Once is enough, man! We can’t afford no dentist!”

Max frequently found his son hanging out with Ash in his room, just chatting or else colouring or doing a puzzle on the bed while Ash did his personal research and typed up his articles. It seemed he would always make time for the kid, no matter what, and Michael kind-of idolised him as an effortlessly cool and awesome big brother. The only time he refused a request was when Michael asked him to come and play baseball with him while he and Max collaborated some data together at the kitchen table.

“Ash – come and pitch with me!”

“Ah...” Ash had physically paled at the request, Michael holding out a leather catching mitt to him. “Sorry, Michael… I’m a little busy today…”

“Take a break!” Michael insisted. “C’mon.”

“You can spare half-an hour, Ash,” Max said. “This can wait.”

“Pleeeeeeease!” Michael begged.

“…I can’t.” He looked shifty, a cold sweat suddenly beading on his forehead, dampening his back and underarms. Max frowned at him slightly, concerned.

“Are you alright?” Max asked him.

“I don’t like baseball…” he muttered quietly so only Max could hear. His breathing sounded a bit off, a little faster and shallower than normal.

“But Griff used to say you loved playing baseball with him! What do you mean you don’t like- oh.” The older man looked confused for a second, until an unpleasant conversation from the past floated back into the forefront of his mind. His face darkened as understanding dawned upon him. Jim Callenreese had told them that Ash used to play Little League baseball. He had been repeatedly sexually abused by his coach. Jim had attempted to get the guy prosecuted, but nobody helped him or believed him, laying blame upon Ash for being ‘seductive’ at the age of seven. Who seriously tells a little kid that? Jim had told his own son that, if the police wouldn’t help him and he was unable to fight back, then the only other thing he could do is insist on payment; words the young Ash had taken to heart. In a strange way, accepting money from his tormentor had probably saved him, because the Bluebeard of Cape Cod figured he would stay quiet if he was both absolutely terrified and handsomely paid off, and felt no need to violently dispose of any evidence like he had done several times before. It had gone on for almost a year before Ash finally shot the guy with Jim’s pistol. That explained why he had gone so pale, why he looked, for want of a better word, afraid. Even thinking of the sport caused him to have an adverse, panic-stricken reaction. “Oh… right. Yeah.” Max had turned to his son and fixed a fatherly grin in place. “Hey Michael, how about you play with your old man today?”

“But I wanna play with Ash!” Michael whined.

“Uncle Ash isn’t feeling too hot, so how about we leave him in peace for a while, hmm?” Max said. “I’ll show you how to pitch a fastball! C’mon.”

“Okay…”

Max managed to get Michael out of the kitchen and into the garden, allowing Ash to dampen down his imminent panic attack before it hit in full force. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, willing himself to stop shaking as his fingers gripped the edge of the kitchen table tightly.

“It’s been over ten years,” he told himself angrily. “Pull yourself together!”

Max explained to Michael that Ash couldn’t play baseball. He lied, saying that everyone was bad at something – Ash just happened to be bad at ball games, is all. If he wanted to play, he should ask Daddy or one of his other friends. From then on, Michael only ever asked his father to play ball with him.


	10. Many A Phrase Has The English Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash attempts to teach himself a new language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

When he wasn’t working with Max or helping look after Michael, Ash spent a lot of time in the library. True, he had always spent a lot of time there, for it was the place he went to be alone – nobody expects a gang leader to hole up in an intellectual paradise, and he owed a lot to the place for making him the smart young man he was today. Previously, he had spent hours reading journalist columns, non-fiction written by soldiers in Vietnam, and scientific documents about drugs and toxins, trying to discover some inkling of what might have happened to his brother. He would also go there to read fictional stories, just to escape for a short while into a fantasy world. Golzine wouldn’t allow him books for fun at the mansion, forcing textbooks and manuals on him instead, but he was a fast reader and could burn through a short novel in a couple of hours. He would go to the library whenever he could, knowing not only would he be undisturbed and safe there, but there was a chance to grasp a brief moment of freedom where he wasn’t Ash Lynx any more. Previously, the only one outside his gang who knew where he disappeared to periodically was Blanca but, unlike Golzine, who felt fiction was pointless, Blanca was a bibliophile and encouraged his endeavour, offering recommendations, often with stories linked to the things he taught or believed in. He really liked Hemingway, although Ash couldn’t see the appeal himself; he couldn’t escape with those stories because the themes hit too close to home for him, and he got little enjoyment from it. He still read them religiously though, the words reminding him of his old teacher, trying to understand how his mind worked. Now, however, he was there for a completely different purpose.

A pile of books sat on the table in front of them and, despite his high IQ and top-notch intellect, he couldn’t read any of them. The reason: they were written in Japanese. He’d been to the small foreign language section of the New York library and cleared out every book they had written in Japanese. He had Natsume Soseki’s ‘I Am A Cat’, ‘Almost Transparent Blue’ by Ryu Murakami, ‘Snow Country’ by Yasunari Kawabata, ‘Norwegian Wood’ by Haruki Murakami, and Banana Yoshimoto’s ‘Kitchen’ spread out in front of him, all written in their native tongue. The library even had a tattered copy of ‘The Tale Of Genji’ by Murasaki Shikibu. He also had several manga; works by Osamu Tezuka like ‘Astro Boy’ and ‘Phoenix’, early Shōnen Jump titles like ‘Ginga Nagareboshi Gin’, ‘Dragonball’, and ‘Fist Of The North Star’, some titles in the ‘Gundam’ series, ‘Lupin The Third’, and ‘Devilman’. If any Japanese speaker came into the library right now looking for a book, they’d be hard pressed to find one. He also had three language textbooks of varying levels, and currently had his nose buried in the most basic of the three.

‘How the fuck did he used to read this?’ he thought, frown lines creasing his forehead. The katakana and hiragana were bad enough, but the kanji… oh, how he hated the kanji! He had photocopied a few reading comprehension pages from the textbook, and was diligently translating all the kana into romaji so he could make better sense of it. His current level of understanding could best be described as ‘what?’ His respect for the bilingual Eiji grew tenfold, for he had known not just one, but two of the world’s most complicated languages, although his grasp of English grammar often left him speaking with a Yoda-like sentence structure and his accent had been pretty strong sometimes. He had had real difficulty with ‘L’ sounds, often calling him ‘Ash Rinks’ as opposed to ‘Lynx’. It was probably a good job he didn’t use Ash’s true name, as Ash likely wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face if he was being called ‘Asran’ all the time – and his last name would have been an absolute nightmare to pronounce! Poor Eiji. Ash supposed he had similar speech impediments when he attempted to speak Japanese too, the words mostly understandable but the pronunciation just that slight bit off and the grammar muddled. It was bad enough having the gang occasionally mock him for his now admittedly pretty diluted Irish-Massachusetts lilt – he was especially conscious of the way he would soften and round off his R-sounds, replacing them with ah or aw - but he wondered what a Cape accent sounded like in Japanese… terrible, probably. They tended to drop vowels instead of consonants in pronunciation, and the words themselves when he rolled them around on his tongue felt… pointy? Sharp?

It was becoming apparent that learning a new language, particularly one as difficult as Japanese, was going to be impossible without a tutor of some form.

Maybe he could ask Ibe? The photographer had always been kind to him and he and Max were close. Ibe had already taught him a couple of phrases too, although Eiji told him, while correct, they were only really used in Osaka. Odd that Ibe had mentioned them then; as far as he was aware, the photojournalist was not from Kansai, but it was possible he was pulling his leg. The Japanese, he found, sometimes had a weird sense of humour! However, he really needed someone to speak Japanese with over an extended period of time, and international phone calls to Japan where Ibe was now were ludicrously expensive. It was almost a shame Eiji hadn’t been Chinese – he could have just asked Sing and his gang to help him out! Knowing his luck, though, had Eiji been Chinese, he would have spoken a different dialect to Sing who, like Shorter and the Lee family, spoke Cantonese, the lesser spoken of the two major dialects. They may still be able to help him with some of the kanji meanings though, even if not with the Japanese wording and pronunciation. A lot of them meant very similar things in Chinese.

One thing was certain; he was getting nowhere fast right now. He finished translating the last few kana on the worksheet into romaji, read through his scrawls, and found it still made no sense to him. With a defeated sigh, he gathered up the bulk of the reading material and took it to the front desk. He took two of the textbooks and a manga out on loan, leaving the rest of the books for the library staff to return with an apology. Tucking the books under his arm, he returned to Max’s place filled with a mild frustration.

*

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Max asked him over dinner. It was just the two of them tonight, Jessica having taken Michael out to a friend’s birthday party at a fast food restaurant. He was a popular child at kindergarten, and often got invited to parties and play-dates. “You seem distracted. You’ve got little frown lines between your eyes and you’ve shaped your mash into a perfect pyramid.”

“Nothing, really,” Ash said, squashing the potato pyramid back down with his fork. “I’ve just hit an intellectual wall.”

“A wall?” Max queried.

“I’m trying to learn Japanese,” Ash admitted. “I got some books out the library and have been trying to teach myself, but it’s fucking hard!”

“Oh…”

“I didn’t think it’d be as difficult as this,” he said. “Eiji made it sound so simple when he started showing me the basics, but it’s not. It’s a whole different alphabet to ours and it’s written in three different ways, none of the words resemble anything we say here, and their sentences are backwards.”

“Most European languages have backward sentence structures too,” Max said. “It’s actually English that’s backwards.”

“That’s hardly comforting, seeing as I can’t speak any language other than English,” Ash muttered.

“I thought you could speak some French?”

“You think just because I was under Golzine’s wing for so long I’d know his mother tongue?”

“Erm…”

“No, you’re right. I did pick up a few sentences just from being around various Corsicans, but I'm far from being fluent. I can just about introduce myself and I can swear in French thanks to Papa Dino. I can tell someone they look like a donkey’s ass, and I can request all sorts of sexual favours from them, but I couldn’t hold a conversation about anything important unless it involves banking in the Cayman Islands.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you…”

“I wish I paid more attention to Ibe and Eiji while they were here. I may have picked something up from them if I’d paid attention.”

“I doubt it,” Max said. “They were native speakers, neither of them from Tokyo, although Shunichi did study art there, so they were no doubt using local slang and speaking quickly. Ibe did once say Eiji's dialect can be quite strong too, especially when he's chatting to locals in Izumo, but he mostly uses standard Japanese with him.”

“You have contacts, don’t you?” Ash asked him. “You don’t happen to know where I might find a Japanese speaker who could tutor me, do you?”

“Japanese speaker… hmm…” Max pondered. “Shunichi is the only Japanese person I know personally, and I would say all his contacts are in Japan itself… but Jessica may know someone. I seem to recall her having a friend from university who was Japanese-American, and they lived out Brooklyn way. I think she was called Tanaka, or something? Mai Tanaka? I’ll ask Jess.”

“Brooklyn…” Ash murmured.

“Why exactly do you want to learn Japanese anyway?” Max said curiously. “It’s not used outside of Japan much. I mean, I know Eiji speaks it, but he’s near enough fluent in English.”

“Because I’m struggling to find the right words to say in English, so I thought I’d try Japanese,” Ash said, realising that when spoken out loud it sounded stupid. He felt his cheeks colouring. He thought Max may laugh at him, but he didn’t.

“That’s… pretty honourable, actually,” Max said instead, rubbing his chin. “Shunichi told me that the Japanese words for ‘I love you’ hit differently than the English ones.”

“Pops…!” Ash whined, embarrassed further. “That’s not what- Well, what I meant is… err…” Max had seen right through him like he was made of glass. He couldn’t deny it. “Please, just ask this Tanaka person for me.”

“I’ll get Jess to contact her if we can,” Max promised, a sly smirk playing on his lips.


	11. I Should Not Dare To Be So Sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing visits with a grim letter from Eiji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

The following day, a tentative knock rapped on the door, and Max answered. Stood outside, looking a little nervous and hunched in a blue bomber jacket, was Sing Soo Ling.

“Oh thank God, I found the right place!” he said in relief when he saw Max. “I’ve already scared two elderly ladies and a mother of three until this grumpy middle-aged man pointed me over here! He said a smart-ass teenager matching Ash’s description had moved in.”

“What?”

“Ash never gave us his full home address, just the vague area he was in, so I had to try and guess which house was yours.”

“Oh… that dumbass!” Max facepalmed. “You wanna come in, Sing? He’s upstairs doing some research for an article we’re writing right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Ash! Hey kiddo – you got a visitor!” Max shouted up the stairs.

“What?” came the muffled reply.

“A visitor! You know, a person who comes to the house to see you?”

“I know what a visitor is, Pops! Don’t be patronising! Who is it?”

“Leader of the Chinatown boys.”

“Sing?” Floorboards creaked, a door upstairs clicked open softly, and Ash appeared on the landing wearing his reading glasses and an oversized red hoodie. He looked mildly annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, that’s a warm welcome,” Sing mumbled. Max grimaced apologetically before returning to the kitchen table where he had been working. Sing then shouted up the stairs. “Had a letter. I… erm… think you need to read it too.”

“Come up,” Ash gestured for him and retreated back into his room.

Ash’s room was simultaneously spartan and chaotic. It was plain, the walls magnolia and the carpet a dated paisley-patterned pinkish-brown. He didn’t have much in it, but what he did have managed to be in complete disarray. His bed was unmade, the duvet a crumpled mess kicked to the side, one of the two pillows on the floor. There was a pile of clothes on top of a chest of drawers, cleanliness uncertain, and his desk was covered in paper and heaps of books and journals, framing his computer in an intellectual mess. Ash dropped down onto an office chair and swung around to regard him. If it wasn’t for the baggy hoodie, Sing felt he would look like some high-end CEO perched in the chair, his fingers steepled and long, thin legs crossed.

“What’s this letter?” He sounded neutral, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes. There was only one person Sing received letters from, so if Sing was here something had happened to him… Sing reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. He passed it to Ash, who removed the contents and started to read.

_‘Dear Sing,_

_I am glad you are doing well and that Yau-Si has finally settled down. It sounds like all he needed was a friend all along. I am sure the two of you will go far. I do not think I can ever bring myself to like him personally though, after what he did… I really want to forgive him but I cannot forget such cruelty._

_Unfortunately, life for me has taken a turn for the worst. You remember I told you my Father had liver problems? He has been in hospital for many years now, while I live in a house of ladies. One of the reasons America was so great was that I could act like a boy for once. Well, his condition got worse. Doctors did what they could but he passed away two days ago._

_I am at a bit of a loss for how to react. My sister will not stop crying, but my Mum has just been quiet. I am not sure how I feel. I am wondering if I got desensitised to death in America. I feel sad, but I also feel like I should feel worse than I do. I honestly do not know. I am the one organising the funeral because Mum has to work full-time, so maybe I will feel differently afterwards._

_In answer to your question, no, I have heard nothing from Ash. I am sure he has his reasons. He always was a busy person._

_I will write again soon. Keep up the hard work with Yau-Si._

_Eiji.’_

Ash had a hand held over his mouth thoughtfully while he read. He exhaled noisily through his fingers as he finished. While Eiji had briefly touched upon the subject of his father being hospitalised before, he’d never mentioned it was terminal. Ash had assumed it had been a short-term thing. He’d never brought it up in conversation, not even when Ash had told him about Griffin’s years of madness. That would have been the ideal time to mention he understood what that was like, dealing with a sick relative and watching them deteriorate, to turn the conversation around to himself just once. But he’d remained silent, listening sympathetically but keeping all his own issues locked away. He probably understood better than anyone what Ash had been going through.

“It’s probably the shortest letter he has sent me,” Sing admitted. “Usually, I get two or three pages, but I think he’s more upset than he’s letting on.”

“It’s not every day your Dad dies,” Ash said. He could sympathise with the emotions. He had half-expected Griffin to just drop down dead at any time; when he finally had passed away, it had hit him like a sledgehammer, but it had been the manner in which he had died that had affected him rather than his actual death. Being prepared for death to happen blunted the sadness slightly, and almost brought relief knowing he was finally at peace and out of pain. If his illness had been what had killed him, then he may have just felt a slight bit of grief without the raw anger and bitterness that had exploded out of him. That angst remained even though Dawson had been reduced to little more than a grease stain on a wall by his own hand; there was no justice strong enough to atone for what that inhuman bastard had done, not just to Griff and Shorter but to many others too. “It’s hard when family die, especially when they were sick to begin with.”

“You still haven’t contacted him,” Sing said accusingly. “It’s been five months since he went home, Ash!”

Ash remained silent, staring at the letter.

“You really should,” Sing said. “He has asked about you in every other letter he has written. There’s only so much I can tell him. This is the first time he hasn’t asked.”

“I keep trying,” Ash admitted quietly. “But everything I write sounds stupid and trite.”

“You think what we send each other isn’t?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen what you send to each other!”

“My last letter had a recipe for Kung Pao chicken… and his detailed a visit to a shrine to pray for his sister’s mid-terms.”

“Oh wow. That’s… piffle!”

“Yep,” Sing nodded. He took his letter back from Ash and stuffed it back in his pocket. “But it’s fun piffle! He writes better English than he speaks.”

“I know,” Ash said in barely a whisper. Eiji’s letter had contained beautiful words, poetic and artistic. You never would have guessed it was not his native language. Everything Ash penned sounded bland and unemotional in comparison.

“Just… send something to him to let him know you still care.”

“I’ll send him a sympathy card or something,” Ash promised.

“You better!” Sing threatened. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Max is doing an article on the ‘Rainbow Warrior’. You know, that Greenpeace flagship that sunk near New Zealand? Big scandal. It all links into nuclear testing…”

“I see…”

“The deeper you go into the rabbit hole, the more intriguing it becomes,” Ash said, smiling slightly with a devilish gleam. “The French intelligence services were involved. They bombed what is essentially a civilian ship.”

“All I saw in the news is it sank and a photographer drowned,” Sing shrugged. “I’ll leave the nitty gritty to you.”

“You’ll be able to read it in the New York Post when we’re done,” Ash shrugged.

“I’ll let myself out,” Sing said, turning to leave. “Make sure you contact Eiji!”

*

He tried once again to write a letter, but after three hours of staring at a blank sheet of paper he gave up. Jess had been in contact with her friend, and he’d made plans to meet with her soon. Maybe then the right words would finally come.

Irritated at himself, he went to a stationer, brought a sympathy card, and mailed it to Japan without any writing in at all.


	12. He Ate And Drank The Precious Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Tanaka Mai, extroverted fashion photographer and now part-time Japanese tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese. 
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Tanaka Mai was a short, slim, moderately attractive lady who spoke English with a strong Brooklyn accent. Like Jess, she worked in photography, primarily for the fashion industry. They had arranged to meet over lunch in Uptown Manhattan. The first time Ash saw her, she had her long hair crimped to a voluminous style and tied up in a loose ponytail, smoky eyeliner enhancing her monolid eyes with a cat-like flick in the outer corners. She wore a red power jacket with some impressive shoulder pads, shouting her presence in the room with a bold effeminate masculinity. Her long nails were like crimson talons, clasped around a mocha coffee like a predatory bird around its prey.

“So, you must be Ash Lynx,” she said in greeting as he mooched up to the table where she sat, her voice husky from cigarette abuse. “I’m Mai. Jess has told me all about you.”

“All good, I hope…” Ash joked, removing his denim jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair before taking a seat

”She said you were a handsome brat…”

“Bitch…”

“…But that you were more than just a pretty face.”

“Less of a bitch.”

“So, you want to learn Japanese, yeah?”

“I know a little bit already,” Ash admitted. “I have this… friend… he taught me a few words.”

<”So can you tell me you speak English? Or that you don’t understand me?”>

“Huh?”

“A real beginner then,” she smirked. “What words do you know?”

“Konnichiwa,” Ash said. “Sayonara… the odd phrase here and there. I tried to learn from a textbook but most of the information goes in one side of my brain and straight out the other. It ain’t sticking.”

“Knowing how to say hello is a start, at least,” she nodded. “Can you recognise any Japanese letters?”

“I know some hiragana,” he nodded. “The vowels… a few others.”

“We have our work cut out for us here then,” she sighed. “If you know Konnichiwa, do you know Ohayou Gozaimasu or Oyasuminasai?”

“I’ve heard them… he would use them… wait, are they, like, ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ or something?”

“Bingo!”

Eiji would normally greet him in the morning with a cheerful ‘Ohayou’ before switching to English, and the last thing he usually said at night was ‘Oyasumi’. It made sense now.

“What does ‘baka’ mean?” Ash asked, remembering another word Eiji used frequently when muttering to himself angrily.

“Idiot,” Mai said bluntly.

“Really?”

“Why, you get called it a lot?” Mai smirked. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s a common pejorative, often used affectionately. There are far worse things to be called.”

“Like what?”

“Kisama… konoyaro… kusoyaro… onore. They’re pretty bad things to be called. But I didn’t come here to teach a teenager how to swear!”

“No…”

“What exactly prompted you to learn Japanese anyway?”

“Because I want to speak my… friend’s language as well as he can speak mine,” Ash said. “I want to be able to express myself to him in a more personal way than just expecting him to use English all the time. It only seems fair.”

“Hmm…”

“I also want to visit Japan in the near future, and I think at least knowing the basics would help me get around…”

“You don’t need to make excuses for your sexuality, kid,” Mai smirked.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. I’ll teach you what I can,” she said, flicking a stray strand from her ponytail back over her shoulder. “We’ll start today with greetings, Ps and Qs, basic introductions, and I’ll show you some kana, but I expect you to learn how to read and write them in your own time. And you need to memorise words and phrases in your own time too.”

“Alright.”

“If we meet up twice a week, I think we can have you at least up to small-talk conversation level in a couple of months, especially if you’re as smart as Jess made you out to be.” 

*

He would meet up with Mai for a couple of hours on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, usually at a quiet coffee shop but sometimes she would take him to strange places, like the park or one of New York’s many museums. She had her reasons though; she would quiz him on words he should have memorised, strolling ahead, heels clicking on the pavement with a determined purpose, pointing at various things, using them as real-life flashcards to drill information into him. She used less and less English when she spoke to him as time went on, forcing him to reply in Japanese as well.

<”What is that?”> she clipped, pointing at a tree in the park.

<”A tree?”> Ash would respond.

<”What type of tree, dumbass?”>

“Errr….?”

“It’s a ‘hinoki’!” she said. “A cypress tree! C’mon, we went through this last week, kid!”

“How was I supposed to know what type of tree it is? I’m not a botanist! Does it matter?”

<”Idiot!”>

He fared a little better at the Natural History museum, able to name most animals in Japanese without too much difficulty.

<”What is that?”> she pointed at a large taxidermized cat, crouched on a dried out log in a glass cabinet.

<”Cat?”>

<”What type of cat?”>

Ash had smirked as he responded with ‘ooyamaneko’.

<”Good!”> Mai had praised him.

It only took him a couple of days to memorise all the kana, although he still occasionally mixed some of them up when reading. After a month, he could also recognise around 100 common kanji – hardly fluency, but plenty to find a toilet in a public space, read a calendar, or find the exit. He could now read children’s books, and Mai would give him chapters of manga to translate to improve his understanding. With tutelage and practice, he learned with a terrifying speed and efficiency.

“Jess wasn’t wrong when she said you were smart,” Mai told him four months into her tutoring over coffee. “When we started, you could just about say hello. Now, you could probably give a tourist an in-depth tour of New York in Japanese without batting an eye!”

<”I not that good,”> Ash responded in Japanese. <”I can order food from menu and chat about weather. It not great.”>

<”It’s more Japanese than most foreigners know,”> she responded. <”Just keep at it, and the fluency will come.”>

“Mai?”

<”Yes?”>

<”Please don’t laugh. Embarrassing!”>

<”I won’t.”>

Ash sighed, wondering how best to word what he was going to ask. Mai had taught him all the basics of small talk; he could describe himself and others, discuss the weather, sports, literature, nature, holidays, education, family and friends, give directions, order food and drink, say where he was going and invite people to come, ask for things and ask what a thing was, and could say if he liked or hated something. He could hold a decent conversation about most day-to-day topics and even knew a bit of slang. He could even insult someone, Mai having caved one day and teaching him just about every swear word in the book (he had now taken to muttering ‘temee’ under his breath when Mai annoyed him, and he had even called Max ‘kusojijii’ once, although the poor guy had no idea what he’d just been called) and joked that he could now whore himself in a whole new country. He had immediately taught the crudest of the words to Alex and the others, and they had a good laugh about it, adding some new tags in marker pen to the wall of the hideout in crudely scrawled kana, because ‘Eiji would appreciate it’. The Japanese seemed to have just as many cutesy words for genitalia as English did, so he could loudly and rudely declare he liked both cock and pussy and state he wanted to eat a dick, but those declarations of wanton lust were not exactly what he had planned to learn when he set out on his personal mission.

“How do you say ‘I love you’ in Japanese?”

“’Daisuki’,” Mai said.

“I thought that just meant you like something a lot?”

“Japanese don’t really declare love for each other that much,” she said. “It’s really only in special cases that you’ll need anything stronger than ‘suki’.”

“’Daisuki’ just doesn’t feel right to me…”

“There is one other word, but it’s not used very often, if at all…”

“Tell me.”

Mai told him, and explained what it meant and in what circumstance it was used. “Seriously, Ash… ‘Daisuki’ will do just fine if you want to tell someone you love them. The other will just make them feel awkward.”

“No, it’s perfect. Thanks!”

Finally, after months of searching and study, he had the word he was looking for. 


	13. Delight Is As The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash books a flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

After ten months of trying, he finally managed to write a letter to Japan, but it wasn’t to Eiji.

_‘Dear Ibe,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. Max explained that you cannot easily get a visa anymore, so I send my deepest apologies that my affairs have affected you and your career._

_I don’t know how much Max has told you about my situation, but my probation is due to end in three months and I was hoping you could maybe help me out once again on a personal quest?’_

Ash corresponded several times with Ibe over the next three months, both by airmail and phone call, organising and collaborating, the letters getting gradually less and less formal, like business correspondence, and more friendly. He also continued his tutoring with Mai, but by this point it was less learning a new language and more practicing and improving on what he already knew. Mai also lent him a lot of Japanese films and recorded TV programs on VHS tape to watch at home to broaden his understanding. He brought himself a small TV and VCR for his room so as not to hog the TV downstairs and had taken to watching one film or a couple of episodes without subtitles every evening before bed, rewinding and relistening to tricky bits over and over until he got what they were saying. After a while, he found he could understand most things said to him in Japanese, even if his speaking and reading comprehension were not quite up to the same level.

His probation finally ended (Charlie came over personally with Nadia to give him the good news, wishing him luck and willing him to please, for the love of all that is holy, before his entire shock of curly ginger hair went grey from trying to find loopholes to keep him out the slammer, stay out of trouble in the future – Ash promised nothing) and with a fresh new passport and a 90-day tourist visa, he packed a suitcase and booked himself a trans-pacific flight.

“It feels really weird to be walking around without a gun,” Ash said matter-of-factly. “I feel all exposed and vulnerable.”

“You’ll survive,” Max had told him fondly, seeing him off at the airport with Michael. “Shunichi assures me that Japan is stupidly safe.”

“Still feels weird to not have anything to defend myself with…”

“Kid, you once weaponised a fork – imagine what damage you could do with a chopstick!”

“Don’t give me ideas! I’m trying to stay out of trouble!”

Max laughed. “I’ll miss having you around.”

“I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks,” Ash said. “As much as I may want to stay longer, I have responsibilities now. Someone has to pull their weight around here!”

“You don’t have to push yourself so much, you know. Sometimes, you write like you’re running out of time,” Max said, shaking his head. “How many articles have you had published now?”

“When you’ve seen death as closely as I have, you never know how much time you have left,” Ash said sagely. “Also, I need the money if I’m to keep going back and forth to ‘Nippon’ all the time! I’m hoping this will be the first time of many, and Eiji can’t get a visa for another two years. Freelance journalism is only as well paid as the effort you put into it, so the more I work the more often I can visit him... if he wants me to.”

“Very true.”

“Besides – I wouldn’t want to miss your wedding,” Ash said with a slight shrug. Max and Jess had waited for a year to decide if getting re-married was right for them, considering how disastrous their first attempt had been. A lot of the problem before had been that Max couldn’t let go of the past; that, combined with him ending up in jail, had resulted in unhappiness and anger, and Jess had left him hoping it would provide a more stable and happier existence for her and Michael. Unfortunately, life very rarely ever works out as you’d like it to, but the Banana Fish incident showed them both that they still had feelings for each other, and it brought closure to a lot of Max’s obsessions, mellowing him out considerably. They still argued a lot, but it was almost affectionate, as if shouting and insults were their own special way of saying ‘I love you’. Ash and Michael were both used to it, and could tell from the tone when it was a real fight and when it was just handbags. They had made plans for a small ceremony, just them and a few friends, pretty casual and low-key, in about two months’ time to renew their vows. “A train wreck like that? I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“You better come home soon, Ash!” Michael scolded him in a serious tone, but he looked a little teary eyed as he glared upwards. “And bring me a present!”

“Demanding little shit, ain’t ya,” Ash told him, crouching down and booping him on the nose affectionately with a finger. He couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this and when Griff had left for Vietnam; he’d had a duffle bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder, and similar words had been exchanged, although the situations were very different. Griffin had gone to war with no idea of if or when he’d be back – Ash was going on a long overdue journey to, he hoped, happier things, and would return quickly. “I’ll be back before you even realise I’m gone.”

“HEY!!! ASH!!!”

Ash looked up at the mezzanine, where he saw Alex and the others with Sing wishing him well.

“Say hi to Eiji for us, ya hear?” Kong shouted down happily.

“Tell him we miss him!” added Bones. “He needs to come visit us soon – to hell with visas! Sneak him back in your suitcase!”

“Take care, Ash,” Sing said. “Tell him what he needs to hear!”

Ash smiled and waved up at them. A glance at the departure board revealed his check in desk was now open, and the time to leave had arrived. Max gave him the briefest of manly hugs, patting him twice on the back while Ash grumbled and tried half-heartedly to push him away. He still wasn’t fully comfortable with physical affection from older men, but he was getting used to it from Max because he knew it was harmless and genuine.

“Get off me, Pops…”

“Take care of yourself out there, kid,” he said seriously. “You deserve some happiness. We’ll see you when you get back.”

“Bye Max… Michael…”

He picked up his case and walked into the airport, a quick look back over his shoulder revealing that Michael was now crying, Max holding him on his hip with one arm and raising his other in farewell, while his gang mates enthusiastically waved him off from the upper levels.


	14. The Waters Chased Him As He Fled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash gets violated... but not in the way you're all thinking :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Direct flights from New York to Tokyo took a little under 14 hours, and Ash didn’t sleep a wink the entire journey. It was his first time flying commercially alone, and it wasn’t exactly a short journey. He’d never been a big fan of air travel… it made him nervous. Take-off and landing were the worst bits, closely followed by turbulence and just generally looking out the window and seeing how high up you were. It didn’t help that every other time he’d been in a plane had been under duress and either by force or as a prisoner. He’d opted for a middle seat above the wings to try and minimise his anxieties, but it didn’t help much.

He left New York on an 11am flight. When he landed at Haneda Airport, due to the time difference, it was roughly 3pm the following day. Severely jet lagged, he staggered through the terminal, pausing briefly to collect his luggage, and found Ibe waiting for him. He was holding a sign with ‘Ash Links’ scrawled on it. He also held it upside down. Ash smiled. An attempt had been made, but translations were hard.

“Ash! Over here!” Ibe called out to him, waving a hand frantically.

<"Pops! It has been too long!"> Ash greeted him in his native tongue. <"How have you been?">

<"Holy shit! Your Japanese is amazing!" > Ibe complimented him. “Max said you been learning, but wow!”

“It’s not that great…”

“Welcome to Japan,” Ibe said, gesturing widely to the airport terminal building. “Did you have nice flight?”

“I’m very tired…” Ash yawned. “It’s a long way from New York.”

“Jetlagged?”

“Just a bit.”

“The hotel is not far. I have hire car, so you will get to see bit of Tokyo on the way!”

“Cool.”

Ibe led him to a rather beaten up old Nissan Stanza, parked outside in the car park. They stowed the luggage in the boot and then took off into the city.

Tokyo, like New York, was full of skyscrapers. Buildings made of glass towered above them and there were people and traffic everywhere, yet despite this it was painfully foreign to Ash. The streets were clean, for one, no litter blowing around in the breeze, no smell of blocked sewers or piss-soaked alleyways permeating the air. There were no people yelling at each other, no wailing sound of sirens forever in the distance. Vehicles drove on the opposite side of the road and the taxis were just regular-looking cars, not the familiar yellow sedans clogging the streets he was used to, although Ibe said the taxis in Japan had automatic doors, which was a rather novel feature. The trains he saw rumbling by on bridges high above the road were clear of graffiti and somehow sleeker than the New York subway cars. Periodic areas of green were sporadically scattered throughout the city, and every few hundred metres was a small shrine or temple, or an old Edo-era building with paper screen doors tucked in amongst the shiny new bubble economy architecture. Flashing neon billboards assaulted the eyes up high. Businessmen in smart suits scurried around the streets toting briefcases, a sea of black hair and dark clothing. He was instantly awake and revived – he wanted to explore this new and exciting city.

“Little different to New York, huh?” Ibe said, noticing his astonished gaze as he drank in all the sights with a foreigner’s eye. Despite knowing Ash could speak decent Japanese, Ibe conversed with him in English. He said he needed to keep his skill sharp, so was using Ash as practice so he didn’t get rusty. “I do not like Tokyo much. Too many people. I come here for work, stay in hotel usually, or sometimes friends. I live here for a while for university, but I live near Sendai now. Eiji is from Shimane. I do not know how well you know Japan. Do you know where Hiroshima is? Shimane north of there. It is several hundred miles west of Tokyo.”

“I thought Eiji said he was from Izumo?” Ash queried.

“He is. Izumo is city in Shimane prefecture. I have train booked for Thursday to Okayama. We change there for Izumoshi. Eiji lives a little outside the city, nearer to Matsue, so I have hire car booked from there, but Shinkansen fastest way to cross Japan.”

“Oh, the bullet trains?”

“Yes, bullet train. A day or two in Tokyo for newcomer to Japan won’t hurt though,” Ibe smiled. “Let’s be tourist!”

Ash liked that idea very much.

*

Ibe parked the car in a small automated parking system, a type Ash had rarely seen, wherein the car was deposited in a small compartment and the machinery inside whisked it away to a storage spot below ground. They were issued with a parking ticket to reclaim the car later. They then carried their bags on the two minute walk to the hotel, a modern chain affair in Minato, that Ash was mildly disappointed in. He had been hoping for a more traditional Ryokan or Minshuku, a family run place with tatami and futons. Ibe saw his reaction to the bland hotel and gave him an awkward smile.

“There are not many affordable traditional hotels in Tokyo anymore,” he said apologetically. “Tokyo is set up for businessmen. Traditional places are… too expensive for me.”

“That’s a shame,” Ash shrugged.

“We shall stay in slightly more Japanese-style place in Izumo,” he promised, but didn’t elaborate.

They got booked into the hotel, Ibe jabbering in fast-Japanese that Ash had difficulty following to the girl behind the desk. He wondered if Eiji had struggled with his English like that, especially when two native speakers were chatting quickly and not to him directly. He got the gist of most of the conversation: room numbers, keys, when breakfast was… but he lost track a bit when Ibe started talking about twin beds.

<”And it is definitely a twin room, not a double…”>

<”Yes sir, there are two beds in the room,”>

<”You’re certain? I don’t mean to press, but… it’s important that there are two beds…”> Ibe was concerned for Ash sharing a room with an older man, considering his chequered past. He had stressed when booking the hotel that it had to be a twin room to avoid any unpleasantness. Plus, it didn’t make Ibe look quite so much like a deviant taking an attractive young foreigner into a double room. There had been one time with Eiji they had been wrongly booked into a double, and the glares from the hotel staff had been painfully obvious as they judged their ‘relationship’. They could get away with being ‘uncle and nephew’ in America, where western eyes had difficulty telling Asians apart in general, but they looked too different in Japan to be related and, however you looked at it, it looked suspicious, an older man taking a teenager into a room with only one bed. In the end on that occasion, Ibe had slept in the bathtub with the spare pillow and blanket, an experience he would rather not pay to experience again.

<”Yes sir, I am certain. Room 603 is a standard twin en-suite room, like you asked for.”>

<”Thank you.”>

The lady behind the desk turned to Ash, and in accented English asked him for his passport.

<”Oh. Yes, of course.”>

Her eyes lit up hearing him speak Japanese. She beamed at him as she took his passport to make a copy for the hotel records.

<”Thank you, young sir,”> she said, returning the original document. <”You speak wonderful Japanese!”>

He had been warned by Mai that the Japanese would forever compliment him on his ability to speak their language, even just a tiny bit – but he hadn’t expected it to be quite so shocking, or for such a tiny amount of response to garner such a reaction. He could have just said ‘konnichiwa’ and they’d smile and say ‘good job’ back. In fact, on the flight over here, he had said that to a flight attendant, just testing the language, and she had given him preferential treatment in return; an extra serving of cake with his in-flight meal, endless free drinks in which his cup never once ran dry, and as many packets of peanuts as he wanted, just from saying hello.

Or maybe it was because he was attractive?

Still, it was a stark contrast to English-speakers, who tended to be ignorant and expect you to be fluent in English no matter where you came from, and would stare in disgust if you were not, with nary a compliment said about any attempt made. He wasn’t a saint either; he’d often criticised Eiji for his less than exemplary grasp of the language, even going so far as to suggest he watch Sesame Street. He’d learnt his lesson now though – never again would he accuse a polyglot of being illiterate.

Checked in, Ibe and Ash rode in the hotel lift and found their room, squirrelled away in a far corner. Ibe let them in, and revealed a basic but comfortable twin room. Two single beds, a bedside table between them with a telephone on top, plus a desk with a kettle and some green teabags on it standing under the window. A letter from housekeeping welcomed them to their room and was signed personally by the cleaner who had spruced the place up. A wardrobe with a mirror on the door stood next to another door leading to an en-suite bathroom. Ash dumped his suitcase on one of the beds and took a look out of the window.

“Cool telecommunications tower!” he said, noticing a tall red-and-white structure stationed nearby. It was mildly reminiscent of the Eiffel tower in Paris, and it stood out amongst the otherwise dark skyline of Tokyo.

“Oh, it Tokyo Tower!” Ibe explained. “Big Tokyo landmark, built in the 50s. I was not even born when they put it there, but was exciting development for Tokyo. You can go to top floor observation platform and get good view of Tokyo.”

“It really stands out. It’s like… Tokyo’s answer to Lady Liberty,” he said. “Only more useful because it lets you watch television.”

“Do you want some tea?” Ibe asked him, filling the kettle from the tap in the bathroom.

“Sure. But first I need to use the facilities,” Ash went in after Ibe left and locked the door.

The bathroom was Japanese-style, with a small but deep bath dominating most of the space, a shower head attached low to the wall next to a stool and rinsing bucket provided next to it. Housekeeping had provided mini-samples of soap and shampoo, tucked into a little metal cage screwed to the wall next to a small sink. In the corner was a fancy-looking western-style toilet.

The first thing Ash noticed when he sat down was that the seat was heated. He wasn’t sure if it felt comfortable or weird, his buttocks expecting to find cool ceramic and instead meeting warm padded plastic. He decided it was nice, just different. The toilet also came with a variety of buttons on the side, the instructions written in Japanese. While his understanding was near fluent and his spoken Japanese was very good, his reading comprehension was still very basic, and these buttons were labelled entirely in kanji. It couldn’t hurt to press some of them though…

‘I highly doubt this is a flush…’ he poked a button with a musical note on it. The toilet didn’t flush, but it did start playing the sound of running water mimicking a flushing sound; a sound princess to cover the often unpleasant noises made by the user. He pressed the button again and the jingle stopped. ‘Japan is weird…’

Curious, he tried another button, one with a picture of what looked like a W hovering above a curly dotted T-shape. The toilet whirred ominously… and he suddenly felt something wet tickling him in a place that really shouldn’t normally be tickled…

“OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK!?” he screamed, shooting up from the toilet seat in shock as a jet of warm water caressed his anus. Looking into the bowl, he saw a small attachment sticking out, squirting water violently upwards. He slapped the button again, stopping the bidet from spraying water everywhere, and pulled his pants up feeling both disturbed and concerned for the Japanese. The bidet retracted itself back into the toilet bowl with a gentle click.

“Ash! Ash – are you OK?!” Ibe had heard the screams of horror. He hammered on the door, concerned.

Ash saw a standard flush handle fixed to the side of the toilet cistern. Anxiously, he pressed it, praying to whatever Gods would listen that it was just a regular flush and that the toilet wasn’t about to explode or something. He washed his hands in the basin, and unlocked the bathroom door wearing a traumatised expression.

“Ash! What happened?” Ibe asked him.

“Pops… I think the toilet just violated me…” he said.

“The toilet…?” Ibe noticed it was one of those fancy new washlet ‘super toilets’ and had a wild guess at what had just happened. The Lynx had been sprayed! He started laughing, a rather hearty belly laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Ash protested, blushing.

“Sorry… but… ‘violated’ heheheheh!” Ibe wheezed, holding onto the doorframe for support. He mimed two finger poking upwards and cried out ‘KANCHŌ!’ before devolving back into peals of laughter.

“The whole damn country is perverted…” Ash muttered.

To apologise for laughing, Ibe took him out for sushi. Ash thought he’d eaten ‘proper’ sushi before; he had been wrong. Something about eating it in its home country was vastly different and delicious, and there was not an avocado nor a California roll in sight. After scarfing his way through a selection plate, he kept ordering more tuna sashimi and salmon nigiri, Ibe trying not to cry as his wallet became considerably lighter due to his expensive tastes. Thankfully, his jet lag hit in full-force before he completely bankrupted the poor photographer with his discerning palate for seafood, and his need for sleep finally outweighed his need to fit as much raw fish inside himself as possible. He crashed out the minute they returned to the hotel, sleeping through until morning in a rare, peaceful night of no nightmares or disturbances.


	15. These Strangers In A Foreign World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash does tourist things in Tokyo with Ibe as a guide.  
> Roughly based on a solo tour I did myself a couple of years ago (so I can confirm, you can do all this stuff in a day!) and I did do some research to check what was and wasn't there in the 80s :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Having studied in Tokyo as an art student, Ibe had a vast but eclectic knowledge of the city. He gave Ash a tour of the usual tourist places, but it was clear he preferred certain areas to others. After the expensive night before, he ignored Tsukiji fish market – the last thing he needed was to lead the wildcat to more fish! Instead, he started his tour in Hamarikyu gardens, which first thing in the morning were tranquil and empty. The traditional gardens offered a stark contrast to the skyscrapers surrounding it, harmonising shades of green and a traditional tea-house surrounded by water offering a peaceful sanctuary. Ash would have liked to compare it to one of the smaller New York parks, but it was far more structured and zen than most of New York’s famous greens. Japanese gardens favoured neatness and were relatively spartan compared to western floral explosions, but it was still beautiful.

One they had finished strolling the meandering pathways of the garden, they took a ten-minute romp through Ginza. Shops here took a decided turn for the extravagant, stocking jewellery and pricey electronics. Ash pointed quizzically at a shop selling ludicrously expensive square watermelons.

“Why?” he had asked in a confused whisper, frowning. The fruit had been forced to grow in a plastic case, ensuring it took on the unusual shape. He’d been shocked at the price of regular apples and strawberries in Ginza, but this was something else.

“Ornamental,” Ibe shrugged. “Novelty value. I hear they taste horrible.”

“Japan is weird…” he said, although he wouldn’t have put it past Papa Dino to buy crap like that as a table decoration just to show off his wealth in the same manner that rich people and royalty would rent pineapples in the 1700s. He’d dragged him to enough places dressed up like a Ken-doll in expensive tailored suits and made to look pretty for the exact same purpose after all, Dino showing him off like a rare polished gem he had found. He liked to believe he was at least more useful than a piece of inedible fruit, although the use in question was just as tasteless and disgusting as he imagined the square watermelon to be.

Ibe brought them past the impressive Tokyo Station in Marunouchi, which Ash found quaintly retro and painfully western to look at, modelled as it was on European station architecture. Ibe described it as ‘moody-looking’, but Ash thought it looked more like a stately home than a station, sprawling and stubby compared to the glass monsters of Ginza and Nihonbashi surrounding it. A brief walk down a ginko-lined avenue and they popped out by the Imperial Palace grounds. White walls and a deep moat defended the palace, the surrounding grounds green with mossy lawns and planted with numerous pine trees. Twin bridges, guarded heavily by private forces, protected the palace itself from attack or from common folk sneaking in. Tourists clustered around taking photos, while several joggers whizzed past making circuits of the palace grounds in colourful shell suits and neon leg warmers.

Next, after a short hop on the Tokyo Metro, Ibe took him to Asakusa, showing Ash the impressive Kaminarimon, with its twin statues of Fūjin and Raijin standing guard besides a huge red lantern. They strolled past numerous market stalls on Nakamise-dōri, most of them open and flogging wares to tourists, but a few others still shuttered behind screens painted with comical Ukiyo-e scenes, down to the grounds of the Sensō-ji temple. Ibe loved the Buddhist temple for its photographic beauty, and explained he had spent many hours in his youth here taking pictures of the wooden architecture and the people frequenting the place. One of his final oil paintings submitted at college had been of the eaves of the impressive pagoda.

They returned to the metro and zipped into the metropolitan Shibuya. Ibe wasn’t too fond of Shibuya; there were too many people. However, despite standing out like a sore thumb amongst the predominantly Japanese population, Ash felt strangely at home amongst the rushing masses flowing over the scramble crossing. They all had places to be, and were in a hurry to get there, just like the average New Yorker. All it was missing was a few loud Brooklyn accents, maybe a few altercations as people bumped into each other… but the Japanese seemed to flow like a stream, or maybe more like flocking birds. They very rarely walked into each other’s path, or had to do a sidewalk shuffle to avoid collision, instinctively moving aside and weaving around each other without eye contact or obvious communication. He got Ibe to take a tourist photo of him next to the Hachiko statue. Max had lent him a camera for his trip. It was nothing too fancy or professional like Ibe used. It was just a regular household Kodak Instamatic, easy to load up with film and simple to use, and so far he’d used it mainly to take scenery photos. He hadn’t taken many photos of himself yet, and he felt a little embarrassed as he stood next to the bronze dog pretending to pet it, but he wanted a couple of photos of himself enjoying Tokyo at least. They got some lunch while there too, entering one of the many department stores and catching a quick bite on the restaurant floor. Ibe wanted to eat tonkatsu, but Ash said it looked too unhealthy and instead dragged him to a gyudon restaurant. They sat by a window, people-watching the denizens of Tokyo as they scurried over the zebra crossing below.

Afterwards, Ibe took him to Harajuku, and gave him the choice between the lively teenage fashion shops of Takeshita, or the more serene atmosphere of the Meiji Jinju shrine. After seeing that most of the shoppers around Takeshita were female, he opted for the shrine. Ibe had visibly drooped in relief at this, and admitted that Takeshita made him more nervous than even some of the rougher parts of New York. He didn’t feel he was ‘cool’ enough to be there. The Shinto Meiji Jinju, in contrast to the Buddhist Sensō-Ji and its many shops and buildings surrounding it, was in the middle of a tree-filled park. The space was positively verdant and green, a huge torii gate marking entrance to the sacred grounds themselves. Ibe told him how you had to enter from the edges of the gate and not straight through the centre.

“The centre path is for the Gods,” he explained. “Mortals walk to the sides through torii.”

Ibe also showed him how to properly purify yourself at a shrine using the available ‘Temizuya’ fonts, pouring water over each hand using a wooden scoop and rinsing your mouth before letting the remaining water cleanse the handle of the scoop before you return it.

“You are supposed to drink water, but most people do not now because of fears of bacteria,” Ibe said. “Water is clean, but I would not trust it to drink. We just wash lips with it instead.”

“How do you dry your hands afterwards?” Ash had asked, his hands now dripping wet. Ibe just shook the excess water off his hands and wiped them on his trousers in answer. “OK then…” Ash had muttered, flicking his fingers and rubbing his palms together to remove the worst of the dampness.

Ibe explained to him the symbolism of the 5-yen coin, how it brought good fortune due to ‘go en’ being a homophone for ‘go-en’ meaning ‘good relationships’, and by wishing luck to the Gods you invite it upon yourself. He had encouraged Ash to join him in Shinto prayer, demonstrating how to throw your coin into the collection box, ring the bell, bow respectfully and clap to get the Gods’ attention, then how to bow a final time to thank them for their time. Ibe prayed out loud for his next photography gig to be fruitful and profitable. Ash silently asked that his next few days in Japan went exactly as he hoped they would. Meiji Jinju was apparently a hot-spot for love fulfilment wishes, if the messages on the ema boards tied around the shrine were to be believed, the dual deities of the late Emperor Meiji and his consort residing there – he hoped, if Gods even existed, which the pessimistically agnostic side of him doubted, that they heard his prayer.

After Meiji Jinju, Ibe and Ash walked to the bustling hub of Shinjuku. Ibe showed him the flashy Golden Gai and Kabukichō. With the light beginning to fade and the neon lights being turned on in full, the seedier parts of Shinjuku were a must-see for any first-time tourist to the area. Usually, the hustlers left foreigners alone, catering only to those who could speak Japanese but, upon realising he understood them, several hosts tried to grab Ash’s attention. His attractiveness and the fact he was blatantly a tourist with possible excess funds to spend worked massively against him as they attempted to draw him (and his money) inside. Ash couldn’t help but notice how incredibly _young_ some of the hosts looked, and he felt the acrid taste of bile rise into his throat. The age of consent here was lower than that in the States, which meant high-school-age kids could legally work as escorts. Prostitution was illegal, but ‘hiring a date’ was not, and once you were ‘dating’ you could do what you liked in the bedroom; a happy little loophole that made the sex industry in Japan far more open than the secretive hotel liaisons and cover-up businesses he was accustomed to. While most of the escorts were undoubtedly in their twenties or older and most of the work was pure entertainment and paid personal companionship without any intercourse, he suspected there were more than a few who were younger than he was and maybe just as experienced... His New York street instincts came into play, pounding the unpleasant wave of personal panic into oblivion before it had a chance to rear its ugly head and replacing it with anger. He told a couple of the pushier peddlers exactly where they could shove their host clubs in the crudest Japanese he could muster. Ibe apologised for him and ushered him away, thinking that maybe bringing a former child prostitute into a red-light district was not the brightest idea he’d ever had. The last thing he needed was a Yakuza fight, not only because it was dangerous but because he knew even unarmed Ash would probably win in a minor altercation with low-level goons and then consequently get them into deeper trouble. He had a habit of attracting danger, and the trait had persisted all the way out of the back-alleyways of New York and into the predominantly peril free central Tokyo. Sensing eyes on them from the shadows, Ibe encouraged him to leave, Ash still arguing heatedly with the Kabukichō pimps even as he was gently pulled away from them. He swore in Japanese almost as well and as creatively as he could in English.

<”I hope hedgehog fucks your face so you can eat one thousand pricks!”> he spat at them.

Ibe had originally planned to get an evening meal in the Shinjuku area, but after Ash had almost started an all-out gang brawl he changed his mind. He dragged him down into the largest railway station Ash had ever seen, navigating him through the maze that is Shinjuku station and onto the subway, taking them both on a short hop over to Roppongi instead. Roppongi was like a less-sordid little brother to Kabukichō, still harbouring cabaret bars and adult entertainment, but was better known as a youngsters’ night-life district. There were several izakayas stationed around, and Ibe chose one he was familiar with and had frequented often with his then-girlfriend as a student. They sat on cushions on the floor at a low table, and Ibe ordered them a variety of small dishes to share between them. They lied about Ash’s age so he could have a beer, Ash feeling positively rebellious as he sipped at the fairly low-alcohol beverage. Somehow, underage drinking felt so much naughtier here than it did back home. His Caucasian features had fooled the barkeeper and they were more lax than the States when it came to asking for ID, a lot of trust being placed in the patrons to be truthful when asked. Eiji had told him once that the legal drinking age here was 20 – until recently, New York’s had been 19 and Eiji had occasionally taken advantage of it, although it was raised to 21 just after he left, much to Ash’s chagrin as he now had to chase down the legal age for longer, not that he was much of a drinker anyway. Max allowed him to drink in private in the house if he wished though, often joining him or even initiating the act and, of course, the Pink Pig didn’t care what your age was – it just valued your wallet! Full of yakitori chicken and edamame beans, slightly tipsy on Asahi lager, they had returned to their hotel exhausted and content.

Ibe had called Max on a payphone at the hotel to give him an updated Lynx report; he’d agreed to touch bases briefly with Max every other day, just to keep him informed of what was going on and to let him know Ash was doing OK. Max had been unable to stop laughing when Ibe said he’d tried to pick a fight with the Yakuza, but he was happy to hear that Ash was having a good time at least.

“How he manage to find only danger in Tokyo?” Ibe asked, exasperated. “Cannot take him anywhere!”

“Hahaha, old habits die hard, Shunichi!”

He laughed again when Ibe sobbed at how much the previous night’s fish dinner had cost him.

“Yeah, I learned the hard way – damn kid likes the fancier things in life!” Max had chuckled. “Always gravitates towards the expensive places, then orders the costliest thing on the menu, and sometimes only eats half of it. I guess Papa Dino used to spoil him and that kind of stuff is normal for him, although if I were Ash I think I’d have preferred a McDonalds Happy Meal and to be left the hell alone... but then the obnoxious brat won’t eat hamburgers!”

The following day, Ibe slowed the pace down. He took Ash to Ueno, showing him the masses of cherry trees lining the busy pathways in the park. They were not currently in bloom, but Ibe said that each spring the park became home to thousands of picnicking revellers enjoying the flowers. He recalled Eiji explaining ‘hanami’ to him once, saying that everyone would get drunk and party under the delicate pink blossom, enjoying the short-lived beauty. Ueno was closer in appearance to a western park and garden than the other places they had been, even having a zoo and a boating lake peppered with couples in swan-shaped pedalos, but was still dotted with small shrines and traditional Japanese architecture. Once they’d thoroughly explored the park, Ibe then took Ash to a couple of the museums, his favourite being the National Museum, with its artworks and artifacts detailing Japanese history. Ash, however, preferred the Museum of Nature and Science located next door; he always had been a sucker for places of learning, and the airy museum with its open exhibits reminded him of the Natural History Museum back home.

All museumed out, they ate comforting ramen at a little family-owned restaurant near the station, slurping happily at the thick noodles in rich pork-broth. The elderly noodle chef was overjoyed when Ash thanked him for the meal in his own language – teasingly, he tested Ash’s Japanese skills and was surprised at just how fluent the young Yankee was! He gave them a free mochi ice cream when they finished their ramen as a token of friendship and continued chatting for a while, asking where in the US he was from and questioning what it was like there, and saying he had old friends in the US military who had been stationed in Japan for a while in the 40s. Ash said he had military friends as well, and explained how Max and his brother had fought in Vietnam together. Both of them agreed that while soldiers were usually brave and good people, the wars they were made to fight in were often senseless and ultimately pointless. The chef had thankfully been just a little too young to serve in WW2, but had experienced the horrors of the war as a teenager and never wanted to see it happen again. He offered his condolences when Ash said his brother had died because of Vietnam, but he didn’t give details, leaving the old man to think Griff had just been shot in south-east Asia. It was a solemn conversation, but Ash was secretly happy that his language skills were good enough to discuss deep and niche topics, even if his grammar was all over the place and his Japanese came out in strange word orders, missing particles or skipping some necessary keigo politeness.

After Ueno, Ibe showed him around Akihabara. Ash had little interest in the electronic gizmos and otaku-centric shops, but he did pick up a couple of presents for Michael while he was there. Max’s son had recently developed a liking for anime, quite likely developing this taste from observing Ash and his struggles to master Japanese. Some of the videos Mai had lent him had been anime, so when Michael found similar styles of animation on cable to the ones he had seen Ash watching now dubbed into a language he could understand, he had at first been curious, and then obsessed. One of his current favourites was ‘Kimba the White Lion’. Ash found him a plush Kimba, or Leo as he was known in Japan, and thought that the wide-eyed cub would probably make Michael very happy.

“It looks like a Disney character…” he said, showing Ibe the lion. “Look at those huge eyes! I wouldn’t be surprised if Disney does something similar in the future, like, have a lion-based cartoon or something. I’m seeing… Hamlet, with lions.”

“How would Hamlet work with lion?” Ibe said rhetorically.

“To be, or not to be? That is the question,” Ash smirked.

For the late afternoon, they returned to Asakusa and took a boat cruise down to Hamarikyu and back again, taking in the riverside scenery and numerous bridges crossing the Sumida river along the way. Ash leant against the guard railing towards the front of the boat and admired the scenery as they lazily floated by. It was a relaxing way to end what had been two whirlwind days of touring.

“We have train to catch in morning,” Ibe reminded him that evening over a shabu-shabu pot they were sharing, swishing a wafer-thin slice of prime beef in the boiling broth on the table in front of them. “I will drive us to Shinjuku and then drop off hire car there. Thankfully, there are many car hire places near the station, so will not take long.”

“Why did you even bother with a car?” Ash asked, genuinely curious as he dipped hot blanched pieces of lotus root into a small bowl of sauce. With the exception of the first day, they had navigated the city entirely by public transport.

“I drove to Tokyo from home,” Ibe explained. “Usually, I take train, but I had a job offer at a little place en-route that is tricky to get to with public transport, so it was convenient to, how you say it? Kill two birds one stone? So I hire car for a week and visit on my way here. I will be returning there next month to photograph a soccer team for their promotional wares. It also made handling luggage easier”

“Have you been busy since you came home?” Ash asked him. “I still feel bad that you can’t come back to the States for another couple of years…”

“Oh yes! People see my photos in magazine, really like what they see! I have had several clients hire me take photographs since return. Good thing is I am freelance, so was not tied exclusively into media outlets and quickly found domestic clients,” Ibe said happily. “Do not worry about visa – that was entirely my fault. I should have checked paperwork, but so many things happen, think visa in the end was least of worries. My favourite thing to take are sport photos anyway - I no need to go all the way to America to do that. I like capturing dynamic images, and it has always been hobby of mine. It was taking photo of Eiji that got me my first big break and told me that my future lay in photographs, not in painting. My father disappointed, but I am happier looking down viewfinder than staring at blank canvas. Photos capture memories, freeze time. I was never much good at paints.”

“Me neither,” Ash admitted. He was good at many intellectual things, but artistic endeavours were not his forte. His drawings had all the talent of an enthusiastic toddler with an uncapped sharpie; in fact, the drawings he had mailed to Griff in Vietnam were probably the crowning highlight of his creative skills. He preferred logic and reason.


	16. The Mountain Sat Upon The Plain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash sees Mt. Fuji.  
> A short chapter, but that's because the next one is an important one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Ibe dropped Ash and the luggage off outside Shinjuku station, stating it would be quicker and easier for him to drop the car off and come back. To get off the street, Ash dragged the cases just inside the station itself, all the better to people watch. Using his suitcase as a makeshift seat, he sat and observed the Tokyoites shuffling by. It was the back-end of rush hour, so there were still a considerable number of business people swarming around, briefcases in hand and smart suits dominating the fashion scene. Ash, being not only a foreigner but an attractive blonde one in casual wear, caught the eyes of several passers-by, but overwhelmingly their glances were ones of curiosity rather than the lustful gazes he was used to. He hadn’t really noticed before, because he’d been with Ibe and preoccupied with drinking in the culture and attractions, but everywhere he had been in Tokyo people had viewed him with an inquisitive air. Japan's population was very homogeneous, so their eyes were drawn to him like shy moths to a vibrant flame. It was simultaneously refreshing and unnerving. He fidgeted slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable and beginning to regret coming into the station proper.

Ibe returned twenty minutes later, panting slightly from having jogged back.

“I sorry it take so long – there was nobody at desk to hand key to!” he said, bowing deeply.

“Please don’t bow…” Ash pleaded, seeing people stare at him more now he had a panicked-looking native deferring to him. “It’s not like we’re going to miss the train or anything!”

He followed Ibe into the bowels of the station, following the signs for the Shinkansen. Before going through the barrier, Ibe insisted they buy an ekiben boxed lunch from one of the many station stores. He picked up two popular ones, smiling as he said he always loved eating ekibens because they usually contained local delicacies at a reasonable price and made a journey feel special. He then handed him a small green ticket to get through the barrier, and they strolled up the platform past people neatly queued anticipating the train’s arrival in their designated waiting point.

“People here are so organised,” Ash commented. “In America, it’s always a free-for-all on stations. I try and avoid rush hour on the subway”

“Do not be fooled – rush hour metro is manic!” Ibe said. "It worse than New York! We hire staff just to physically push as many people on train as possible!"

"Is that even safe?"

Ibe shrugged.

The train came into view, almost silently gliding towards them, its lengthy nose-cone shaped like the beak of a kingfisher slicing through the air. Ash had never seen a train like it – already over 20 years old, the Shinkansen somehow managed to look futuristic. He was used to seeing the rickety flat-faced New York subway trains slathered in graffiti, or the noisy diesel Amtrak locomotives hauling literal miles of carriages and wagons across the States. He had never really had an interest in trains, finding them and the people who obsessed over them to be dull and boring, but the Shinkansen somehow managed to be exciting. Maybe it was knowing how fast they went that did it, a novelty factor just to add a little pizazz to an otherwise pretty common form of transportation. The train came to a gentle stop, the doors puffed open pneumatically, and people filed off in an orderly fashion. Once everyone was off, they could board, dragging their bags and hiding them down behind the rearmost seats of the carriage, finding their reserved places further towards the middle. Ibe let Ash have the window seat so he could look outside at the scenery; he told him he had a treat in store coming up, provided the clear weather remained.

Ibe quietly buried his nose in a book, so Ash stared out the window, watching the urban landscape of Tokyo morph into a very foreign rural panorama. He could see mountains, jagged peaks on the horizon, fronted by lush green rice paddies and sporadic areas of forest or lake. Towns whizzed by, blurs of white and grey, the occasional billboard flashing past, electrical cables criss-crossing the sky. They were roughly 40 mins into the journey when he saw it; a conical mountain, taller than the rest and standing alone, snow-capped and iconic.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

Now Ash understood what Ibe had meant by ‘a treat’. Fuji looked even more impressive than the countless pictures of it did credit. Seeing it in person was a special experience, and he could see why the Japanese revered the mountain so much. It looked God-like, dominating the landscape as it pierced the heavens.

“Wow.”

It was the only word he could think of to describe it, and it did not do it justice at all. He took a couple of photos with his camera, knowing that the glass window and the speed they were travelling, combined with the fact his camera was just a cheap point-and-click, would no doubt glare and blur the spectacle beyond recognition, but wanting to try and memorialise the moment somehow anyway.

Ibe handed him one of the bentos as they neared Kyoto; some mixed vegetables and chicken with rice, split into compartments in a solid cardboard box. The veggies were still bright in colour and the chicken succulent. It tasted flavoursome and healthy, an unusual taste for a convenience food but, so far, he had yet to eat any food in Japan that wasn’t of a decent quality. America severely lacked in that department, especially with pre-packed convenience foods, with its doughy white sandwich bread and limp plastic cheese slices, way too much sugar and salt, and the aftertaste of preservatives and colourings in everything. Bland and grey and flavourless with nary any nutritional value, anything wrapped in plastic was a recipe for disappointment. Take-aways from his favourite restaurants were OK, but he tended to avoid most convenience food and ready meals on the basis it was usually a pile of unhealthy trash and empty calories. He did, however, have a weakness for cheap, hot street foods born from his homeless days where beggars couldn’t be choosers and a dollar hot-dog was a wonderfully filling meal for a cold and starving kid if you could afford it.

They switched trains at Okayama, leaving the sleek Shinkansen behind and boarding a more rugged service for Izumo. No longer on the Shinkansen, the thrill of travel began to wane, replaced with weariness and ennui. Combined with his still prevalent jetlag and the rocking motion of the train, he felt his eyelids begin to droop and it wasn’t long before he dozed off propped up against the window.


	17. Twas Just This Time, Last Year, I Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more than a year of waiting, Ash gets the reunion he hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

“Ash, wake up. We are here. We are at Izumo,” Ibe said, tentatively shaking Ash gently awake. He groaned and opened his eyes, trying to clear the fog of sleep as fast as his unresponsive body would allow, to find they were now trundling through the outskirts of a Japanese urban development, the train slowing gradually.

“This is Izumo?” Ash asked groggily. Ibe was leaning away from him as he awoke, remembering that people had said Ash could get violent if woken up suddenly and keeping himself out of firing range as much as possible, but he seemed to be taking it rather well. He didn’t immediately lash out, at least.

“Yes. Izumo,” Ibe confirmed. “Or outskirts of Izumo, at least.”

An announcement came over the tannoy, confirming that they would be arriving shortly into Dentetsu-Izumoshi station. Ibe stood up and busied himself collecting their luggage together, while Ash attempted to liven himself up, yawning and cursing his inability to wake up quickly. He was still slightly drowsy, leaning heavily against a vacant seat by the door vestibule, hand loosely resting on his suitcase handle, when the train came to a gentle halt. Ibe dragged him down the platform and through the ticket barriers, but he wasn’t truly awake until he’d been marched five minutes down the road to the car hire pick-up. Ibe hefted their luggage into the boot of a Honda Civic while Ash glanced around indifferently at the sea of Japanese vehicles and, after a brief signing of paperwork, an exchange of money, and a lot of bowing, they were on their way again.

“It still feels weird to be on this side of the road…” Ash said uncomfortably. “I constantly feel like we’re about to crash into something.”

Ibe pointed to a red torii gate flanked by foxes as they drove past. “That over there is Inari Shrine. Place of worship for goddess of harvest. There are many shrines to Inari across Japan – that is just small, local one. Izumo is best known for Izumo Taisha shrine – we will take you later!”

Ash observed the passing urban scenery with interest. Despite being a city, it was far quieter than Tokyo, and vastly different to New York, or even to Boston. The architecture was different for a start. The houses in Japan were neat and square, telephone wires blighting the sky above as they criss-crossed the streets. They passed a group of schoolgirls in sailor uniforms – school uniforms were not commonplace in America, and Ash had always thought the sailor uniform was a mythical thing, reserved for fiction and fantasy, but there they were, three girls in honest to god sailor uniforms!

“Oh! Over there is Ei-chan’s old school, where I first met him.” Ibe gestured to a generic looking school building sat atop a steep hill. “He was still high school student then. I came take pictures of him vaulting after I saw him on TV.”

“Yeah, he said he used to be a competitive pole vaulter,” Ash said. “When I saw him escape that time… well, I can fully believe it!”

“He was very good,” Ibe nodded. “Flew through sky like bird. Shame he got injured so bad. Lost all confidence. I would have loved to see him jump again, but it is not to be.”

The city landscape gave way to suburbia, settlements now divided by brief patches of farmland and wooded areas as they strafed the shores of a huge lake. The houses here were slightly larger than those in the city proper, and there were more traditional-style homes.

“Ei-chan lives here,” Ibe said, pulling onto the side of the road at a generic but comfortable looking two-storey house in the middle of an average-looking suburban housing estate. It wouldn’t have looked too out of place in upstate New York, but there was a certain foreign flair to the place. “I shall go park hire car somewhere out of way. I do not want get ticket. Japan really strict about parking – you cannot even own a car without proof you have place to park it! I will not be long – there was parking area just up there. You can either come with, or if like you can go to door first.”

“I’ll wait here,” Ash said, already opening the door and swinging his legs out. “Thanks.”

“I will not be long,” Ibe assured him before driving off slowly.

The house was a plain and fairly modern construction, a typical four-bed suburban Japanese house, small by American standards but fairly large compared to the pokey apartments he had seen in Tokyo. Painted white with black roof tiles, there was a modest front garden, a waist-height gate between two narrow walls marking the entry and boundary, and colourful rhododendrons planted each side of a wide path leading to the mahogany door hidden beneath a large overhanging porch. A bronze name plaque was on the garden wall next to a post box, a surname etched in kanji marking out who owned the property. Wires trailed from a telegraph pole onto its roof and a tiny red kei-car was parked on a driveway off the road to the side – probably Eiji’s mums. Venetian blinds hung in every window, letting light in but blocking the view in or out of the house. A teenage girl’s clothing hung out on a clothes horse on a small balcony on the second storey, skirts and T-shirts drying in the sun. Why was everything in Japan so neat and tidy? He suddenly felt scruffy in his jeans and T-shirt, denim jacket for warmth. This was a completely different world to the one he had belonged to, and despite having lodged with Max for over a year he felt out of his depth in this peaceful suburbia. This was Eiji’s world. Had he felt the same way when he came to America? Intimidated and nervous as he had made his way down the staircase of the Pink Pig and into the domain of gangsters? Rhododendrons are a little bit friendlier than tag graffiti, he supposed, but it took him a lot of courage to take the first steps. He opened the gate and walked to the door.

He stood in the porchway and stared at the doorbell for a long time, finger hovering over the button. It had been an entire year. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him at all. He was regretting that now. He had come all the way to Japan, all the way to Izumo, all the way to his front doorstep just to see him. It had taken longer than he expected, but he was finally here, maybe just inches away… and now he was having second thoughts. What if he hated him now? What if he'd moved on? He swallowed nervously, hand shaking uncontrollably.

Steeling himself, he pushed the button sharply and briefly, pulling away like it had electrocuted him as a melodious chime emitted from somewhere in the house. What had he just done? He had a moment of panic. He could still run!

<”Mum, I think Ibe-san is here…”> A muffled but familiar voice shouted from the other side of the wooden door, freezing him to the spot. <”Either that or the postman.”>

The door opened…

He’d barely changed in the year they’d been apart. Now in his early twenties, his hair was still just as fluffy, albeit slightly longer than it had been in America. It looked like he was attempting to grow it out, but it was currently trapped in inbetween-style hell. His face was just as child-like, however, like he had drunk from the fountain of youth in his mid-teens. He was dressed in a sky-blue chequered shirt and straight-leg jeans, the arms of the shirt rolled up to his elbows and the hems of his jeans turned up so they wouldn’t drag on the floor. Eiji did this with most of his trousers due to his height; it was rare he found decent trousers off the hanger with an inside leg to fit, and it was just easier to roll them up than it was to sew and hem. He was also wearing glasses; thin rimmed spectacles with small round lenses perched on his nose. Seemed he’d finally accepted his short-sightedness and was now taking steps to correct it. He looked good in glasses! They emphasised his already large eyes – in Ash’s personal opinion one of his most attractive features, although Eiji may beg to differ and seemed to be self-conscious of them.

“Hi,” Ash said.

Eiji made an odd, breathy squeaking sound, like someone squeezing a rat, tears springing to his eyes and a hand raised to his mouth in shock. He hesitated, barely daring to breathe as he looked him up and down as if confirming that yes, he was there, he was real, before he launched himself at Ash and grasped him hard in a bone-crushing hug, whimpering in indecipherable Japanese.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Ash whispered, wrapping his arms around Eiji and returning the hug gently. He still carried the familiar scent of clean linen mixed with something sweet and floral, and his hugs remained just as warm as he remembered.

“You taller…” Eiji sobbed, his voice reassuringly close to his left ear. “You no look as thin.”

“You calling me fat, Eiji?” Ash feigned being insulted in his tone. “I come all this way and the first thing you do is tell me I’m chubby!”

“No! That not what I mean!” Eiji apologised hastily, sounding panicked and holding him even tighter, if that was physically possible. Ash felt his fingers thread into the back of his jacket, like he was gripping on, scared he was going to leave. “I mean… you look healthy. You always looked too skinny… I worried a lot that you no eat right...”

“I know what you meant, you dolt,” Ash said fondly. “You’re looking pretty good yourself. Told you glasses would suit you! You look cute!”

“I never expected… I thought maybe you hate me. I hear nothing. For whole year, I hear nothing,” he sobbed. “I about gave up on ever hearing from you again. No letter, no call… it hurt! I know you OK because of Sing and Ibe-san. They tell me, but they not say much. Even Alex write! He send letters from Kong and Bones and everyone… but no hear from you at all! Now you here! Why?”

<”Letter hard to write. No know what say. I was learning Japanese so could use right words,”> Ash said. <”It took longer than thought it would.”>

Eiji froze, as if his mind was having difficulty processing what Ash had just said. That was Japanese he had just spoken, right? The syntaxes were a mess and his accent was foreign, but that was nihongo. He wasn’t hearing things. He broke off the hug, although he maintained a loose grip of Ash’s shoulders as he stepped back, his expression one of surprise and mild confusion, tears smeared across his face, glasses slightly askew. Had he really just heard what he thought he had? He maintained a stunned silence for several long seconds.

<”What on Earth for? I can read and speak English just fine!”> he said, wiping his eyes dry and straightening his specs. He spoke slowly and clearly, just in case Ash had been jerking his chain about learning, and to make himself easily understood if he was telling the truth. <”You didn’t need to learn another language just for me!”>

<”Could debate English fine. Did not seem fair, all conversations one way,”> Ash replied in Japanese, smirking. Seems he wasn't lying about having learnt his language. <”I now finally understand moody Eiji backtalk, and can talk to Eiji family.”>

Eiji laughed. <”’Eiji family’? What? Jeez, your accent is fucking awful! You sound like a toddler with a lisp.”>

“So is yours,” Ash said in English. Eiji had been the first Japanese person to not automatically compliment him but, after all the stick he had given him in the past, it was a deserved criticism. “We’re even!”

<”Japanese is hard for foreigners, so I’ll let you off – the effort is appreciated,”> Eiji said, still laughing. <”I can’t believe you… I don’t think I’ll ever understand even half the things that go through your head! Next time… just… send a letter or something, like a normal person!”>

<”Hopefully there no be next time,”> Ash said. “I’m here now.”

“I said you smart! Told you that you would learn fast! How much you understand?”

“I understand most things said to me, but speaking it is harder and I’ve got the reading age of a five-year-old, but it’s getting better…”

<”So I could speak to you in Japanese and you’d understand me?”>

<”Yes. I understand.”>

<”Like me with English then. As long as people don’t speak too quickly or have a strong accent, I get most of what is said. I watch a lot of American TV – really helps!”>

“I learnt quite a bit from Japanese films,” Ash nodded. “My tutor recommended using them to get a feel for the language from different people and places.”

<”This does make it easier to talk to you…”>

“Feel free to use whatever feels most comfortable for you,” Ash told him. “I’ll let you know if I didn’t understand you.”

“You do same - I use both. My sister can speak some English too, but rest of family Japanese only. Use lot of slang,” Eiji said. “They speak fast. Use Umpaku dialect. You probably learn mostly ‘Tokyo-ben’. I translate to English best I can if you not understand.”

”Ash, I park hire car further up road so it not blocking anything,” Ibe had re-appeared again, opening the gate and strolling down the garden path. <”Hi Ei-chan! Did you like your surprise?”>

<”Ibe-san! You… you knew?”>

Ibe shrugged innocently, a coy smile on his face. <”We’d been planning it for a few months. Ash wanted to come sooner, but his probation wouldn’t let him. We got him flown out here as soon as we could. We thought it would be fun to surprise you.”>

<”Bloody typical that I’m always the last to know ANYTHING you plan!”> Eiji accused Ash. ”You hide things from me in New York all the time as well! You awful!”

“I’m that awful I turned into a law-abiding citizen just for you,” Ash responded with an endearing simper. “I’m not used to being respectable.”

“Ibe-san said you work with Max now,” Eiji said. “And Alex say he lead gang! You have lot of explaining!”

<”Ei-chan? Was it Ibe-san?”> A woman’s voice came from inside the house.

<”Yes Mum, it’s Ibe-san!”> Eiji shouted back. <”Also my friend from America!”>

<”A friend? Well, don’t just stand there like a lemon – invite them in! I’ll make tea!”>

“You heard her,” Eiji shrugged. He stepped aside to let them enter the house. <“Welcome!”>

“Remember Ash – take shoe off at door!” Ibe reminded him. Ash rolled his eyes, already kicking off his sneakers while Eiji handed him a pair of guest slippers.

They followed Eiji into the kitchen, where a lady who was probably much older than she appeared bustled around boiling a kettle and spooning green tea leaves into a teapot. She was slightly plump by Japanese standards, dressed in a simple pink shirt and blue skirt. When she turned to acknowledge them, her face looked just like an older version of Eiji wearing a permed wig. She had the same pale olive shade of skin, the same small nose, the same smile with the slightly crooked eye teeth… He had obviously inherited his looks primarily from his mother, although her eyes were less expressive.

<”Ibe-san! Welcome!”> she greeted Ibe warmly. <”And…. Err…?”> She paused, discomfort obvious from her pained expression. You could practically see the cogs spinning as she wracked her brain for long-forgotten English words. What came out was the strongest Japanese accent Ash had ever heard. “Herro. Ai amu Eiji Muffer. Preased meet yew. Werrcum mai homu!”

<”Hello, Okumura-san. I speak some Japanese,”> Ash told her while Eiji grimaced. The relief on her face was almost palpable. <”My name is Aslan Callenreese. You can call me ‘Ash’. Please look upon me kindly.”>

<”Ash? As in… _that_ Ash? Wildcat Ash?”> She turned to Eiji, who nodded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. <”Now I don’t know whether to thank you or hit you!”>

<”Mum!”>

<”You are not at all like I imagined you’d be,”> Eiji’s mother said, eyeing him up. <”You’re very handsome. And you’re so polite!”>

<”It’s because he’s speaking Japanese!”> Ibe said good-naturedly. Ash briefly flicked him a disgruntled look, but he couldn’t argue against his words. <”He is not so well mannered in English!”>

<”I’m going to err on the ‘thank you’ side,”> she said. <”Ei-chan has told us… I’d like to say lots about you, but he’s been pretty stingy with the grittier details. Still, I know you were a good friend to my son in the States. He can be a handful, but I heard you looked after him well. Come in, sit down!”>

Ash couldn’t think of any place where he had felt more awkward or out of place in his life. He sat on a stool at a small breakfast bar, warming his hands on a cup of tea, trying to keep up with the others at the table as they jabbered away in rapid-fire Japanese. Both Eiji and his mother spoke using a regional dialect, and tended to drop their r’s and have very slight pronunciation differences to the standard he was most familiar with. However, with the exception of the odd word or phrase, he could follow along. Most of the conversation was trite and light-hearted; what Ibe-san had been doing at work lately (prior to Ash coming, he had done a photoshoot of divers at an aquarium), Okumura-san moaned about her work in the canning factory, and Eiji asked what time his sister would be home from school and what was for dinner that evening. It was a world away from the banter of his gang, or the dysfunctional yet charming conversations Max and Jess had.

One thing that stood out to him as a bystander was how flirtatious Eiji’s mum was towards Ibe. Ibe didn’t even seem to notice the vibe, continuing to chat in the calm, friendly way he had, not reciprocating the advances at all. He had always seemed very innocent to Ash, and nervous to boot, but Ash was all too familiar with behaviour of that nature, and Eiji’s mum was being a grade A cougar. He also noticed Eiji was glaring at her a lot, judging her behaviour, but he remained silent and civil. There was some history there, Ash could tell. Eventually, he met Ash’s eyes and instantly saw how excluded he was being from their conversation. He immediately leapt into action.

<”I am going to show Ash around the house,”> he said, standing and gesturing to Ash to follow him. <”He has probably never been in a Japanese house before. We have quite a few things different to America.”>

Ash gratefully followed him, leaving Ibe and Okumura-san to chat.

<”Ugh, I cannot believe her…”> Eiji muttered under his breath once they were out of the kitchen. He looked annoyed. Ash had barely been here half-hour and already he was noticing that Eiji’s home life may not be quite as perfect and rosy as it seemed. <”Dad’s barely in his grave and she’s already fishing…”> Eiji swiftly changed the subject away from his mother’s apparent infidelity before Ash could enquire further, returning to his usual happy self. <”Anyway, I was going to show you around. Come on!”>


	18. The Most Triumphant Bird I Ever Knew Or Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash discovers a tiny pair of booty shorts...  
> (They also from now on converse with each other in two languages, although for the most part will speak in their native one. Easiest way I can describe it is like how Chris and Natsuki talk on 'Abroad In Japan' episodes, so they understand each other, only Eiji is a bit more fluent in English and definitely more serious than Natsuki :D )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Eiji led him into a living room so neat and foreign it surprised him. He thought he was getting used to Japan, but it seemed every few minutes came another culture shock. The kitchen had been fairly western, with the breakfast bar in the centre and countertops around the edge, but the living room was so different to what he was acclimatised to. It was open plan, a large space combining the dining room and lounge. They had a TV, same as any American home, but on the floor was a low, square table with four cushions neatly placed around it. Ash noticed more cushions stacked in an alcove in the wall, as well as a folded quilt and what looked like a space heater. Most of the floor was carpeted with straw tatami mats, which gave under his feet with a strangely comforting bounce. In the corner was a piece of intricate dark mahogany shelving. On it were some burnt out incense sticks poking out of a small terracotta flowerpot of sand, a vase with some cut chrysanthemums in it, a small statue of a Buddha-like figure, and a bowl of rice placed carefully upon its shelf. Also on display were three photographs in black frames. One was an elderly lady, the other a kindly looking man of maybe 60? It was hard to judge Japanese ages. The last was a portrait of a younger man with Eiji’s eyes and fluffy hair, his face thin and pained.

<“Ah. That’s our ‘Butsudan’,”> Eiji explained, seeing Ash examining the shrine. <“A lot of Japanese have them. It’s a personal Buddhist shrine.”>

“Oh! Shorter used to have something similar at the Chang Dai. There was a shelf above the bar with a statue on it. Nadia would put a tangerine or something on it most days. It wasn’t as decorative as this though”

<“Yes exactly! You make offerings to Gods for good fortune. A lot of Buddhist Chinese do it too, but it’s slightly different to a Butsudan.”>

“Is this a photo of your Dad?” Ash asked, pointing at one of the photos.

<“Yes. It’s common to put mementos of people who are deceased on or near the Butsudan,”> Eiji said. <“It’s a way of remembering them, and paying respects. Japan isn’t especially religious any more, but… we still follow the old ways when it comes to respect. At Obon, the time of year when dead spirits can come to visit, we have a party for those who are gone, and we place statues of horses and cattle made of vegetables on the Butsudan so their souls can ride them to and from heaven safely.”>

“That’s… weird. Cute, but weird,” Ash said.

<“Obon is a big thing here. We have dances and festivals for the dead, we light ritual fires and eat lots of special food in their honour. Some places release lanterns into the rivers or sky. It is quite beautiful.”> Eiji said.

“Sounds a bit like Mexico,” Ash commented. “Day of the dead... America has nothing like that.”

<“How about, whenever I can come to America again, we do our own Obon?”> Eiji suggested. <“We can make vegetable horses for Griffin and Shorter and Skipper and everyone, light a bonfire, and have a feast in their memory.”>

“I’d like that,” Ash smiled.

“I show you upstairs,” Eiji beckoned him back into the hallway. “We have bathroom there,” he pointed at a sliding door by the base of the stairs. “It Japanese style, if you want look. Bit different to American bathroom.”

“I’ll see it later,” Ash shrugged. “The hotel in Tokyo had a Japanese-style bathroom too. Can’t be much different. Like a wet room with the shower and bath separate, right?”

<”Shower first, soak in bath second,”> Eiji nodded. <”And everyone shares the bathwater. That’s why it’s important to shower first – you don’t really want to soak in the filth of others!”>

“You know, the entire western world used to share bathwater at one point. Some still do,” Ash pointed out. Eiji actually physically shuddered at that, imagining himself being the last in the bath when the water was practically black. In the States, he had usually showered.

<”Sometimes, I am grateful to be Japanese…”> he murmured.

He gave Ash a quick tour of the upstairs rooms, pointing out the doors to his sister’s and mum’s rooms but not showing him inside for obvious reasons. His sister’s room had a name plaque on it which read ‘Kaori’ in cutesy lettering, an anime mascot dancing in the bottom corner. He pushed open the room of a spartan guest bedroom, which used to be his grandma’s but, after she died, they stripped it down and now visitors could use it to stay over. There was a rolled-up futon and a chest of drawers inside, and not much else. The last door led into Eiji’s room.

“This my room. I be back in minute,” Eiji said, opening the door and gesturing inside. “I get us drinks… please, make self at home.”

Eiji’s room was modestly sized, the walls painted sky blue, a hardwood floor partly covered with a turquoise rug beneath his feet. The first thing he saw were the trophies; Eiji had an entire shelf full of pole vaulting trophies, several medals and ribbons hanging from a piece of dowel threaded through two hooks below it. They had collected quite a bit of dust – as domestic as he was usually, he apparently didn’t dust that shelf all that often - and a resident spider had at some point built itself an apartment complex among the curved handles and tiny sculpted athletes. Maybe he didn’t take much pride in his achievements? Ash picked one at random off the shelf to examine, gently blowing the dust from a medium-sized silver statuette with a tiny jumping man vaulting off the top. The plaque on the front proclaimed him ‘Regional Youth Champion 1982’. A quick scan over the dates showed the latest one to be mid-1984 - a participation medal, but not one that placed on the podium. There was a definite rise and fall in value of the awards over the years, with most of the winning placements clustered around summer 1983, suddenly dropping off to no podium placements at all shortly afterwards. That must have been around the time Eiji suffered his leg injury.

The rest of the room was very stereotypically Eiji. It was neat and fairly minimal, with a western-style bed covered in navy blue bedlinen. There was a stuffed lynx sat on the pillows – Ash remembered winning it for him in a claw machine back in the States, and was somewhat embarrassed that Eiji had brought it back with him. It was starting to look a little bent out-of-shape, the stuffing in the front legs compressed so it no longer sat fully upright, Eiji apparently having hugged it into oblivion. The walls were bare apart from one fading A4 poster from the Moscow Olympic games in 1980 blu-tacked beside his desk, and another larger poster, kept neat in a huge black frame, advertising a camera and featuring a younger Eiji mid-flight clearing a bar, positioned over his bed. When he looked closer at the small print, he discovered the photographer had been Ibe. A struggling plant in need of water wilted woefully on the window ledge. There was a bookcase full of manga and light novels, the titles of some of which he recognised from his tutoring sessions. Two volumes of ‘Shounen Jump’ and three ‘Weekly Shounen Big Comics’ were neatly piled on a bedside table as well, an alarm clock sat atop them. A couple of Nintendo ‘Game and Watch’ handhelds lay on the table next to the manga - Donkey Kong, in a bright yellow flip-cased console, and some Disney title with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. He had a desk with a rotating office chair. On the desk were a small Sony boombox radio-cassette player, a pen pot holding a dozen or so bits of stationary, a professional-looking camera, and a couple of notebooks carefully placed in centre stage. Ash picked up and flicked through one of the notebooks, examining the foreign yet familiar handwriting fondly. His English writing had been scruffy and chaotic, tricky to read, like a doctor’s signature; his Japanese was apparently not much neater.

Above the desk was a noticeboard, which he had plastered with photos of his friends and family. There were several holiday snaps of himself with his Mum and a younger girl who looked like him; that must be his sister. There was a succession of photos of his Dad, ranging from a healthy thirty-something working in the garden, hugging his sister or rough-housing with Eiji, right through to him being a sickly-looking man in a wheelchair, a tartan blanket draped over his knees and a weak smile on his kindly face. There were also pictures of Eiji with groups of Japanese boys, all in the same black uniforms or clustered together in sportswear; his schoolfriends and the people he trained with, with photos taken on school trips, at graduation, and at training camps. There was a nice photo of him and Ibe in Hawaiian shirts, just prior to their flight to the states. What caught his eye most though were the more recent photos he had taken in the States. He had half-a-dozen of Bones, Kong, Alex and the others; he had a couple from when they had gotten drunk at Hallowe’en, Eiji dressed as a witch and holding a carved Jack-O-Lantern with Bones in a Dracula cape, and there were some candid photos taken in an arcade of Kong and Alex playing video games, or all of them together eating hot dogs in Central Park. He had a photo of himself with Sing, the younger Chinese boy grinning cheekily as he made the V-sign with his right hand, taken in hospital in an obvious awkward selfie before he came home. The two of them had become really good friends, thanks mainly to Yut Lung’s interference causing them to repeatedly cross paths. He had a photo of Charlie and Max with Ibe, the three of them awkwardly posing as adults do when put on the spot. There were at least a dozen of Ash; Eiji had been pretty trigger happy with his camera when they were alone, which had been both annoying and endearing. He had a photo of Ash in bed with a sheet draped over him, Ash eating a bowl of rice awkwardly with chopsticks, Ash sat at his computer in his reading glasses plotting his latest scheme and frowning, Ash in a state of partial undress looking embarrassed as he pulled on some trousers, Ash sat moodily in a window at dawn… Most prominent on the board were photos from their California roadtrip; there were a couple of Shorter, smiling at the camera with his natural charm, and several photos Ash remembered Ibe taking of them having fun, fishing, climbing a tree, swimming, and eating ice cream. His favourite was of himself, Eiji and Shorter, all three of them throwing up peace signs, Shorter with an arm over both their shoulders. He made a mental note to remind himself to ask Eiji for a copy of them if possible; he had barely any photos of his friends at all, just the handful Eiji had left behind, and any he had had of Shorter were long gone.

A wardrobe stood at the foot of the bed, one with a couple of draws built into the base. Curious, he looked inside. An old school uniform – a black Gakuran - was hung up next to a couple of smart western-style suits. There was a modest selection of more casual clothes; a couple of pairs of jeans, some chinos and slacks, a dozen T-shirts in varying colours and some with bright prints on them, several dress shirts in varying shades, one incredibly garish Hawaiian shirt, some sweaters and jackets, and he was surprised to see at least three tracksuits, which didn’t seem his style at all until he remembered Eiji had been a pro athlete. One of the tracksuit jackets had the Japanese flag emblazoned onto it, and his surname was printed in English on the back – he had probably worn it at an international competition. Also in the cupboard were a few more traditional items; a festival Happi-coat and a padded Hanten jacket hung next to the tracksuits and folded neatly on a shelf inside was a green yukata, two sets of Jinbei, a plain black male kimono, and a pair of Hakama trousers. The upper of the two drawers underneath revealed a selection of socks and underwear, a couple of sets of pyjamas, and he briefly glimpsed a couple of men’s health-type fitness magazines hiding amongst the white cotton before he promptly closed it again. The draw below that was full of sports vests and shorts… shorts which looked incredibly… well, _short_.

 _‘He was an athlete, dammit!’_ Ash chided himself, holding up a pair of red booty shorts with a drawstring waist while his imagination wandered into dangerous territory. _‘It’s just what they wear…’_

<”I know I said ‘make yourself at home’, but this is something else!”> Eiji said from behind him, making him jump in shock at being found out. He had a tray with two cans of cola and a bowl of rice crackers on it, and looked wryly amused. Ash would like to say he had snuck in silently and taken him by surprise, but Eiji was heavy-footed and clumsy on the ground and couldn’t sneak anywhere if he tried. He’d just been that engrossed in the tiny pair of shorts he hadn’t even noticed him come in. His internal radar for sensing people sneaking up on him was clearly on the fritz from underuse – he wasn’t used to being so ‘safe’ all the time! Eiji put the tray down on the desk. <”You make a habit of rifling through people’s drawers when at home?”>

“I’m sorry – I was just curious!” Ash said, embarrassed. He held up the shorts. “You seriously wear these?”

“I not just wear shorts, I wear shorts on TV,” Eiji said. <”I won a regional competition wearing that pair. They’re my lucky shorts… or they were. I think the luck wore off back in ’84.”>

”They are… very short…” Ash commented. “Wait – you wore these on TV?! Isn’t sport usually broadcast live? Aren’t they a little… risqué? Jesus, you’d almost pop right out of them if you’re not careful!”

<”They are sportswear, Ash, it wasn’t like I was filming porn! They’re easy to move in and you have underpants on underneath! Everyone wears them,”> Eiji laughed. <”You want me to model them?”>

“Kinda…” Ash murmured, mainly to himself but Eiji flushed a pale pink when he overheard.

<”Pervert…”>

”I never got to see you as an athlete. I would like to.”

“You see me jump before.”

“Not properly, I haven’t,” Ash said. “Can you still do it?”

<”That part of my life is in the past, Ash, same as I’m guessing your days in organised crime are for you,”> Eiji said sadly. He sighed heavily, and sat down on the edge of his bed. <”Before, I just found it hard to compete. I’d reached the limit of my physical ability, and in pushing myself too hard to keep up with the competition I injured my leg badly. I was tired, messed up on a jump I knew I couldn’t reach, and instead of hitting the mat I ended up in the pit. I got lucky that it was just my leg and not my neck or spine. Pole vaulting is the most dangerous of all track and field events, and I broke my tibia in two places and tore some ligaments in my ankle. I could have jumped again with training and rehab, but my heart at the time wasn’t in it and I would never win. I’d only kept competing because we needed the money, and if I was going to stay in college I had to keep the scholarship, but I was far from happy. Vaulting used to make me feel free, but I felt no joy from it anymore and continuing was more like... like being underwater than in the air. It felt heavy and cold and meaningless. That’s why I came to New York with Ibe-san; I was trying to find some kind of meaning in my life again. Being shot in the stomach has completely ended my career though. It did a lot of internal damage and my core strength will never fully recover. I’ll never jump again – it’s too dangerous! I am just a regular person these days.”>

“What happened to your college scholarship?” Ash asked. All Sing had told him was that Eiji was taking a year out of college for personal reasons. He replaced the shorts in the drawer and joined him on the bed.

<“If you cannot compete, then you cannot have scholarship,”> Eiji said. <“I was away for too long in America, skipped too many classes, failed the course, then dropped out. I had to wait until my rehab was finished and I was fully healed before going back, and by then it was too late to start. I’ve made plans to re-enrol on a different course in the new school year as a mature student. I currently work part-time at a 7-11 to save money for tuition, seeing as I lost my scholarship.”>

”You dropped out?”

<”My course was sports science, so it’s not like it’s useful for much if you can’t do sports anymore,”> Eiji shrugged. <”I decided to switch to the arts department. I’m going to study Photography properly. I want to do what Ibe-san does.”>

”Do you really need a degree to do that?” Ash asked him seriously. “Your photography is pretty good already.”

“Competitive market,” Eiji explained, practically spitting in frustration and using English. Disagreeing with things in Japanese always sounded forgiving and insincere, dancing around the issue with maybes and soft no’s – Eiji wanted to voice his displeasures in a language that appreciated direct, irritated moaning. “Japan think too much of paperwork, not talent! Could take best photo in world – employer still look at qualification, not at portfolio! Even Ibe-san have art degree! And can’t get back to America for several years because stupid visa, so stuck!”

<”I am so sorry,”> Ash said sincerely.

<”Why? It wasn’t your fault,”> Eiji told him. <”I’m beginning to wonder if we rubbed off on each other too much in the States… you apologise a lot for things you can’t control. It’s a little unnerving. I told you before – that is for us Japanese to do!”>

”But I need to apologise,” Ash insisted. ”I am a terrible person.”

”No, you are not. Stop saying you are,” Eiji scolded him.

“I am though,” Ash insisted. “You put up with all my shit, and I’ve practically ruined your life!”

There was a long pause before Eiji replied. <”What the fuck…”>

“It’s true though,” Ash said. “More than once I almost got you killed because of my damn issues that I dragged you into, then you come back home and you end up stuck in part-time customer service hell trying to rescue your degree!”

“I would have do that anyway!” Eiji insisted. “Did you no hear what I said? I was never going to be successful pole vaulter! It was only matter of time before scholarship ended! Result would be same, only worse!” He sighed, switching back to Japanese and softening his tone. <”Coming to America… meeting you… that was the best decision I ever made! I remember telling you a while ago that I needed to stay and see things through to conclusion, right? That I was fed up of running away and quitting things halfway through? I always felt like a failure. Well, I didn’t run, and I refused to quit, and it changed me as a person. I stopped being scared and I stopped doubting myself. I am a lot more confident! Plus, I enjoy photography! I liked being Ibe-san’s assistant and I’m good at it! I like to capture both the light and the dark in a photograph and I like how it can pause a moment of time forever. I think I’ll enjoy doing that a lot more than I would constantly getting stressed out over competitions and trying to be the best all the time, all for a career that would end by my early thirties anyway. I never would have figured that out if I hadn’t gone. I don’t regret anything – and neither should you!”>

He may still look like a teenager, but it was apparent that Eiji had grown up a lot since they had last been together. He was no longer the naïve boy who had somewhat nervously entered the Pink Pig and innocently asked to hold the gun of possibly New York’s most notorious street kid. He’d done a lot of thinking and a lot of soul searching and had finally found himself rolling out of the tunnel and back on track. For the first time ever, Ash felt like the more immature one.

<”Besides, it put my life into perspective. I felt… so ashamed of myself, that I was worrying and crying over failing at a stupid little sport when there were much worse issues in the world to be concerned with. My problems seemed small in comparison. So I wanted to do what I could, even if it wasn’t much and I’d probably just be in the way. You didn’t drag me into anything – I followed you willingly! So don’t be sorry, OK?”>

“You’re way too selfless a person. Anyone ever told you that?”

<”I’m not selfless,”> Eiji sighed. <”I’m very selfish. I left my family, I made everyone worry, made myself a target that needed protecting, made your problems worse, got people hurt or killed… I should have quit and gone home when you told me to. I should have got out of Charlie’s car and walked away, returned to Japan. I blame myself for so many things! But… I dunno, I just really felt deep down inside that I had to stay. Something told me that you needed me, although really it was me needing you…”>

“We needed each other, I think…”

<”Yeah…”>

”What was your life like, before we met?” Ash asked him. ”You know about me. I know very little about you. Like, what school you went to, or what your friends and family were like?”

”You really want to know?” Eiji asked. ”It very boring…”

<”I want know everything about you,”> Ash told him.

<”Oh God… I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you speaking in Japanese…”> Eiji snorted, trying not to giggle and failing. <”That accent… Now I understand how you must feel every time you talk to me! So cute!”>

<”Japanese is hard…”> Ash frowned.

“So is English!” Eiji countered. <”Maybe we should both learn Cantonese and speak to each other that way!”>

“That wouldn’t be fair – you already recognise a lot of their alphabet!”

“And you can ask Nadia-san and Sing to help with pronunciation, so we are even!”

“Eiji, I’m not learning Chinese…”

<“Me neither,”> Eiji smiled. He lent gently onto Ash, resting his head on his shoulder. <”I like this way the best. We understand each other – that’s the main thing!”>

<”Me too.”>


	19. One Sister Have I In Our House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaori Okumura comes home from school and manages to embarrass everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Kaori Okumura returned from school at around 4.45pm, having finished at her track and field club. She, like her brother, was sporty rather than booksmart. She competed at meets like he had but, unlike Eiji, she didn’t specialise in any one event and didn’t quite have the necessary skill to go professional. She had also never attempted vaulting, the sport being all but inaccessible for girls and competitions non-existent. Her best and favourite event was instead high jump, and she often mocked Eiji that she, unlike him, could ‘fly without wings’.

<”I’m home!”> she called into the house when she entered, kicking her black regulation shoes off and dropping her school bag on the floor in the hallway where it posed a sloppy tripping hazard. <”Mum, is Ibe-san here yet?”>

<”I’m here, Kaori-chan,”> Ibe answered her query as she walked into the kitchen.

<”Hello, Ibe-san! It’s great to see you again! Did you come for the Water Lantern festival?”>

<”Not exclusively, but I am going to check it out while I’m here. I think I could get some lovely pictures at night.”>

<”Where’s my brother?”>

<”In his room, I think,”> her mother said.

<”What? How rude of him – didn’t Ibe-san come all this way to see him? Urgh!”>

<”There are extenuating circumstances this time around,”> Ibe said, smiling.

<”So what! I am dragging him back down to be social!”>

She marched out of the kitchen and stomped upstairs with purpose. Eiji thankfully heard her elephantine footsteps as an early warning system, so he was prepared for his door banging open and her striding in. Ash saw before him an irritated-looking diminutive seventeen-year-old in a high school uniform consisting of a white shirt with a pleated navy skirt and a large silk ribbon tied around the collar, very clearly related to Eiji as evidenced from her fluffy shoulder-length hair and expressive dark eyes currently surrounded by a disapproving frown. She opened her mouth to speak, saw Ash, and stopped.

<”What have I told you about knocking, Kaori?”> Eiji told her exasperated. Clearly, her just barging into his room was a regular occurrence. 

“Hi,” Ash said to her in English, raising a hand in greeting.

“…Hello. Who is this?” she asked, her English at least better than her mothers. The frustrated frown was replaced with a quizzical one.

“This is Ash Lynx,” Eiji said. “My friend from America. He is visiting. Ash, this is Kaori, my younger sister.”

“Oh, the famous little sister! Nice to finally meet you!”

Eiji’s sister had stared at him for a while. She had a similar penetrating gaze to her brother, large childish eyes regarding him with an intense curiosity. Ash shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, feeling like she was x-raying him.

<”Ei-nii,”> she addressed Eiji with a cute nickname, a combination of ‘Eiji’ and ‘older brother’ that Ash thought was adorable and vowed to call him it later in private just to mess with him. She had clearly switched to Japanese thinking Ash wouldn’t understand her. <”This is _that_ Ash, right? The hard-as-nails gunslinger street kid? You’re kidding, right? He looks like a movie star! Your photographs do not do him justice at all! Is this attractive foreigner really your tough mafia boyfriend?”>

<”Kaori…”> Eiji muttered, clearly embarrassed. <”It’s not like that!”>

<”Well, you talked about him often enough when you first came home,”> she said. <”Like, how green his eyes were, or how light and shiny his hair was… stuff like that.”>

<”Kaori… please…”> Eiji said, a pleading note to his voice for her to shut up.

<”People only usually gush about things like that if they want in their pants.”>

<”Kaori – shut up!”>

<”He’s way out of your league, Ei-nii…”>

<”Kaori!”>

<”You are right though; he does have a cute butt!”>

At this, Ash sniggered, unable to hold the laughter in any more.

<”I happy to hear my butt cute,”> he said, smirking at Eiji as his face burned a progressively darker shade of crimson red.

<”He understands Japanese now...”> Eiji sighed at his sister as she also blushed heavily, both of them clearly mortified.

<”Oh my God, so he got every word just then?”>

<”Yep.”>

<”Fuck!”>

Ash sniggered harder, leaning onto Eiji’s shoulder with his elbow for support. 

<”You just as cute as brother,”> he told her, flashing her a flirty smile for extra effect. <”But sorry, my cute butt belong to Eiji.”>

“Ash!” Eiji smacked him on the arm lightly, now being assaulted by embarrassment from both sides, Ash and his sister tag-teaming him.

<”I can’t believe you understood all that…”> she said. <”I am so sorry! I just assumed…”>

<”That because American cannot understand Japanese?”>

<”Yeah… my bad.”>

“No biggie,” Ash shrugged. “It was funny!”

<”For whom, exactly?”> Eiji groaned. <”So embarrassing! I never once ‘gushed’ - I just told them what you looked like!”>

<”Riiiiiiight…”> Kaori said sarcastically. <”You said, and I quote, ‘he has the body of a dancer’. No straight guy describes another man that way, Ei-nii!”>

Kaori remained in the room with them, chatting and learning more about America, finding out things about her brother and what he had done out there that he had omitted to tell them when he got home. For things Ash couldn’t quite articulate into Japanese, Eiji translated the English for her, although Kaori could speak and understand English almost as well as he could anyway, if not slightly better. She had a smaller vocabulary, but her pronunciation of what she did know was clearer and her grammar use near flawless. Eiji made her promise not to tell their mother the sordid secrets of his time in the States, lest she have kittens at the idea.

<”You know she’s livid enough at me as it is, and it wasn’t my fault I got shot!”> he told her.

<”My lips are sealed,”> she mimed zipping her mouth closed and throwing away the pull-tab. <”But damn, Ei-nii! You’re even braver than I thought!”>

“This guy would voluntarily fling himself five metres into the air using a flimsy bit of fiberglass, and you’re only just now figuring out he’s brave?” Ash queried.

<”He jumped like a startled deer, which is also what he looked like when girls tried to talk to him,”> she smirked. <”He was strangely popular with the ladies at school. Everyone loves a jock - with a face like that it's the only explanation I can think of. He would make excuses and run away from every single one who approached him. I understand now that it’s because he maybe didn’t have any interest in them, and the idea of them asking him out was terrifying, but… he could have just told them they weren’t his type. Then most of them would have left him alone. Not giving a definite answer led one of them to stalk him for years!”>

“Too nice a guy to tell them straight to their faces, huh?” Ash teased.

<”It’s not quite like that…”> Eiji said. Truth be told, until he had met Ash, while he had no issue with approaching and speaking to strangers and people of all genders and backgrounds in a friendly manner, close physical intimacy with anyone had scared him. It forced him to avoid situations that could lead to either a girl crying if he turned them down, or else an unwanted relationship with no meaning for him because he couldn’t say no when confronted. He didn't like upsetting people, so the minute he sensed a girl was catching feelings for him, he ran a mile. He instead threw all his dedication and emotional attachments into his sport, to the point that when combined with other deeply personal reasons for competing it nearly destroyed him. Meeting Ash and his time in New York had both taught him to be more assertive and had awakened something inside him he hadn’t even realised was missing; either he was demi-sexual, or his very specific type just happened to be hot, damaged, queer American bad boys who unexpectedly kissed him in jail. Strangely enough, that type also happened to be rare in Japan unless it came to visit… and even then, he just wanted to be close to him and spend time with him, not jump his bones or anything. If it happened, it happened. He’d likely enjoy it and would let Ash take the lead with what he was comfortable with and how he wanted to do it, but how people could just… fuck someone for the sake of it, or have one-night-stands… he didn’t understand that at all. Intimacy of any form was special, a shared moment between people that strengthened their relationship. Why people exclusively used sex for that purpose was confusing to him; he was just as happy with a hug, maybe a kiss, or having someone trust him enough to share their darkest secrets or harrowing troubles with him in the middle of the night. Besides, while Ash was undoubtedly a very attractive human being, it wasn’t his appearance that Eiji was most attracted to, it was his personality.

Initially, he had put the ‘tsun’ in tsundere and everyone said he was dangerous and wild, a cocky devil who cared for nobody. At first, Eiji had agreed with them, Ash being aloof and insulting when they first met, although he had let him hold his gun when he asked politely, which was supposedly unheard of. Skipper was fond of him though, and spoke about him with enthusiasm and awe. Eiji liked Skipper and trusted his judgement, but it wasn’t until the moment Ash had disarmed himself to stop Arthur’s gang killing him that he changed his mind entirely. Ash barely even knew him, and yet he was willing to let himself get captured to save him. Devils don’t do that. If he really was as uncaring and stone-hearted as people were saying, he’d have just let them shoot him. As they got to know each other better, Eiji found him to be a genuinely pleasant person. Yes, he could be terrifying when he was mad, and he would kill a man without hesitation where necessary with a cold-blooded ruthlessness, but he also liked to tease people like a small child would, his bantering game was S-rank, he was super-smart but never bragged about it, wasn’t a morning person AT ALL, was a picky eater although he claimed not to be because he preferred healthy food over fast food, and was scared of silly little things like pumpkins. He was loyal to a fault, although that loyalty was not easily won, and he cared deeply for his friends, too deeply sometimes, pushing people away to protect them, even at the expense of his own happiness. His self-esteem was so low it could probably be found somewhere at the bottom of the Marianas trench, burdened as it was with innumerable issues Eiji wished he could rectify. He was a very lonely and introverted person, his psyche laced with deep and painful scars – a stark contrast to the vicious unfeeling extrovert everyone made him out to be and expected him to act like to the point even he believed it. Most people would never guess that he frequently cried at night over his crimes and the crimes done against him.

<”I’m just glad my brother eventually found SOMEONE,”> Kaori shrugged. <”For a while I thought he was broken or something…”>

<”Not having an interest is not ‘broken’…”> Eiji mumbled. <”And we’re not dating! We’re just… extremely close friends?”> Even Eiji sounded unconvinced at that, but neither were they officially dating either. He didn’t really have a term for what they were, in English or in Japanese. 

<”Yeah, right! Anyway… is Ash coming to the festival?”>

“Festival?”

<“I don’t know if this was intentional on Ibe-san's part, but you somehow timed your visit at the same time as ‘Matsue Do Gyoretsu’ and ‘Matsue Suitoro’,”> Eiji explained. <“Drum and lantern festivals in Matsue. Kaori and I go every year.”>

<”Except last year,”> Kaori reminded him. <”You were still not well enough to attend, so I went with Hiyoko instead. And the year before that you were still abroad with Ibe-san.”>

<”I still went to see the lanterns last year!”> Eiji pouted. <”You pushed me around in a wheelchair and tried to pitch me out of it into the water!”>

<”Yeah, that was funny!”>

<”No it wasn’t!”>

Kaori stood up and scanned Eiji’s photo board. She pointed out a photo nestled in the middle for Ash to look at.

<”Here – look! We were drum carriers when we were little,”> she said as Ash stared at a photo of a much younger and very cute Eiji and Kaori in brightly patterned happi coats with a handful of other children. Eiji couldn’t have been older than ten in the photo, although naturally he looked younger and was shorter than his peers. He and his sister were holding hands, his sister also grasping the hand of another girl of similar age, and behind them was a massive Do drum on a decorative wooden cart. <”Technically, we live in Izumo, but our cousins are in Matsue and we tag along with their neighbourhood to help with numbers. This girl with us here is Minoru Hiyoko – she’s our eldest cousin. She’s real nice! Kids drag these massive drums through the streets and everyone is encouraged to come and hit them… the drum, not the kids. It is very lively and very loud and everyone is playing music, singing and celebrating. Then there’s the lantern festival… that goes on for a few weeks. They put paper lanterns out around the castle waterways and they’re all lit up at night. It’s beautiful!”>

<”I’ll take you,”> Eiji said, grinning. <”It’ll be a good way to see Japanese culture! You said before you wanted to!”>

<”How long are you staying for?”> Kaori asked him.

“Err… not as long as I would like to,” Ash replied. “I’ve already been over here for four days and I have to be back in the States for Max’s wedding, so I have a flight from Osaka booked in seven days.”

<”Only a week?”> Eiji sounded a little upset at that. He hadn’t heard from Ash at all since he’d returned home, now finally he turns up unannounced on his doorstep and they only have a week together. Then again, when he went to the States, he and Ibe had only intended to stay for a fortnight, and Ash had already been over here a few days with Ibe in Tokyo. When you don’t get entangled in an organised crime web, holidays seem so short.

<”That’s a shame. You’ll miss the Kamiari festival! That’s, like, one of Izumo’s biggest deals!”> Kaori said.

<”It’s a boring festival where most of the ceremonies are closed off to the public and we all have to be quiet so we don’t disturb the Gods,”> Eiji said. <”They’re pretty strict about it too. My school used to call off track practice on certain days in case we made too much noise and angered the deities. Matsue is so much cooler than Izumo…”>

<”Does Matsue house all the Shinto Gods at once?”> Kaori countered sarcastically. <”No. No, it does not. And if you really want to see culture, then the Kamiari is the way to go! It’s a week-long event dictated by the old lunar calendar, but it normally falls in November. You’ll definitely have to visit next time it’s on!”>

“I plan to come back many times over the next few years…” Ash admitted. “I will try and come for… Kamegari?”

“Kamiari,” Eiji corrected him. “Kah-mi-ah-ri.”

“Kamiari,” Ash repeated. “Maybe next year.”


	20. Now I Lay Thee Down To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash still had nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Okumura-san provided them a spectacular home-cooked meal of taimeshi (flavoured rice topped with grilled bream), local vegetables, and shijimi soup (clam broth with miso and soy). Ash decided that the seafood here was at least as good as, if not better, than the shellfish he used to eat with Griff back on the cape. Ibe explained that, being a coastal city, the fish was likely fresh caught that morning. Okumura-san had brought it early that morning at the indoor market. All through the meal, Okumura-san kept up the flirtatious attitude with Ibe, only now she had both her son and daughter glaring at her. Seemed Kaori disapproved of her actions just as much as Eiji did.

<”Mum, you are almost twice his age,”> Kaori snapped when Ibe briefly left the room to use the facilities, less tolerant and more vocal than Eiji was of her antics.

<”What are you talking about?”> she replied curtly, acting innocent. <”I’m only being friendly!”>

<”A little too friendly…”> Kaori muttered.

After eating, Eiji decided to take Ash for a short walk around his neighbourhood, to show him ‘the streets he grew up on’. They walked briskly, Eiji occasionally pointing out a site of interest, like a lamppost he had once tried climbing when he was dared to in elementary school, only to fall off and break his arm, or the house with a heavy barred gate that used to have a huge dog that scared him when he was little. It had gotten free once and chased Kaori down the street, and she had fended it off with some pretend karate moves she’d seen on TV, none of which actually hit the dog but the loud yelling and the fact she had turned around and was now flailing in its general direction had made it think twice about biting her.

“Your sister is funny,” Ash told him honestly. “I like her!”

“She is monster!” Eiji responded. “Annoying! Very, very annoying! Ugly girl!”

“I think she’s charming.”

“You like her so much you can have her! I do not want her!”

“You don’t mean that, you love her really,” Ash nudged him with his elbow. He clearly ‘hated’ her enough to discuss deep and personal things with her anyway, like how cute his butt was. They interacted in much the same way Nadia and Shorter had done; a combination of Asian bickering and affectionate teasing. “Anything happened to her, you’d be the first one seeking revenge.”

“Have no choice. Am older brother…” Eiji muttered.

They eventually came to a park where they took a seat on the abandoned swing set. Ash decided now may be a good time to finally breach what could be a difficult subject.

“Your Mom seemed to me to be coming onto Ibe a little strong.”

“She flirt with everyone. She like… like dog in heat. I tell her many time Ibe-san not interested. She cheat on my Father while he was in hospital,” Eiji growled openly in English. Ash remembered vaguely him saying something about it when they were at the Cape. They had played truth or dare, and one of his biggest regrets had been that he argued with his mother a lot, and felt mean for doing so. Ash had thought it quite quaint that the most ‘mean thing he had ever done’ had just been to argue with his parents when that sort of thing had been completely normal for him growing up. “I told you before, but did not give detail. We used to argue a lot… not so much now father dead, but still. She… she…” He struggled to find an English word, especially one that might not potentially offend Ash, so he muttered some localised Japanese slang that Ash didn’t understand. From the context, it wasn’t a very savoury description, and likely meant something along the lines of ‘scarlet woman’. He pushed himself angrily on the swing, kicking his legs to gain some height.

“Y’know, my old man was just as bad,” Ash said sympathetically, staring at the sand pit under the swing set. “I was the result of an affair, so...”

<”Wasn’t so much the affair but the timing,”> Eiji sighed, skidding to a halt. <”An affair I could accept, but Dad was very sick when she slept with another man. It was like she was taking advantage of him being unwell. He wasn’t home, so she could do what she liked without suspicion. I know times were hard for her, suddenly alone with two kids, having to work full time to support the household. She was stressed. But it makes you wonder if they ever loved each other at all, or if she was just using Dad for his money. I felt really bad for my Dad, and he never knew she was being unfaithful. Kaori and myself vowed not to tell him because it would upset him and he was in enough pain as it was.”>

Ash didn’t have the heart to tell him that Jim Callenreese’s affair had taken place while Griff’s mum was fighting cancer. He had been in the exact same situation Eiji’s mother had been; a sick and dying partner, suddenly facing single parenthood, seeking respite and relief. Ash would claim his mother had evicted Griff’s, but the reality was that Audrey Callenreese had lost her battle and passed away. Seeing her husband with another woman had only sped up the process. Not yet even alive, Ash would never be able to understand the feelings of the lonely child caught in the middle. He was just grateful that Griffin was kind enough to still care for him and raise him after his mother abandoned him with his old man, despite the connotations his very existence had. At least Eiji’s mother hadn’t abandoned her children like Jim all but had. More than ever he wished Griffin were still alive. He could have offered better advice, or at the very least lend a sympathetic ear.

<”We used to argue a lot before I went to New York,”> he continued. <”I was horrible to her sometimes. I took out all my emotions and frustrations on her. I called her many hurtful things in anger.”>

“Everyone argues with their parents, especially when the family is going through some shit,” Ash told him rationally. “I used to shout at my old man all the time. Don’t feel too bad about it, I’m sure you weren’t _that_ nasty.”

<”I hated arguing. It’s shameful. I’d say things I didn’t really mean. I always felt bad afterwards… she’s still my mum. I still love her. I want her to be happy, I really do! I try not to argue with her now, and just let her get on with whatever. There are people doing way worse things than her out there, and Dad is gone now. Kaori still scolds her though. I get why she did it, I just…. Don’t get _why._ ”>

Eiji wasn’t the sort to hurl genuine insults and shout at people unless they really deserved it, so to hear about this side of him was enlightening. Ash could see from his expression that he genuinely hated himself for it too. It also explained why every time they had a disagreement, once he had calmed down, which didn’t usually take Eiji too long, he would desperately seek him out to apologise, even if the argument hadn’t been his fault. Ash knew he could be tricky to deal with; if he couldn’t shoot his frustrations out he tended to walk away from them. Most people just left him to disappear and cool off and after a few days they’d probably be civil again, but Eiji would get really agitated and worried about it. Ash had just pegged it to him being non-confrontational, or maybe a cultural thing, a need for harmony between people to keep the peace for everyone, but it seemed there was some deeper meaning behind his reaction. There was a personality flaw at play here, a fairly minor crack but one that had the potential to spread and cause fractions. To put it simply, he lacked the capacity to be mean and spiteful to anyone, even if they deserved it, without a healthy dose of guilt following like hot acid that ate him up from within.

“Love and lust are strange,” Ash told him sadly. “They don’t always go together. You can have one without the other. I dunno, some people just need certain things in a relationship to be happy or to let off some steam. I’ve met enough married men who wanted more than what their wives could give them to know that…”

“I sorry! This is reminding you of hurtful things…” Eiji murmured. He’d switched back to English, which Ash was fast learning was his go-to language when he wanted to apologise to him or say something meaningful. Seems they weren’t all that different in that respect. “This not your problem to deal with. It not even really a problem!”

“Stop apologising and it is too a problem if it causes you to feel bad,” Ash told him. “You listened to all my crap! It doesn’t matter how small it seems - it’s still causing you problems personally.”

“I should not stand in way now Father dead,” Eiji said sadly. “She is allowed to move on, find new boyfriend. It not up to me to decide her life for her. But Ibe-san is not right for her at all!”

“No, he’s a bad match for sure,” Ash agreed. He smirked. “She can do waaaaaay better.”

Eiji laughed.

*

When Ash asked Ibe where they were going to spend the night, Eiji told him he was an idiot and obviously they were staying here. Ibe always stayed over with them when he visited, and that wasn’t going to change now. They had plenty of space. That must be what Ibe had meant when he said they would stay in a ‘slightly more Japanese-style place’ – a Japanese house was certainly more traditional than a business hotel, even though the Okumura residence was partially westernised and modern. With Ibe safely squirreled alone in the guest room with the door locked, Eiji had allowed Ash to commandeer his bed while he unrolled a guest futon on the floor.

<”It’s been years since I had a sleepover with someone my age,”> he said happily, wrapped up in a comforter on the thin floor mattress. <”Ibe-san doesn’t count because he’s considerably older.”>

<”What about America? We share room all time,”> Ash pointed out, sounding drowsy, his words blunted and slurred. He was on the verge of sleep already, fighting to stay awake to keep talking to Eiji. It had been a long and emotional day for him, deep anxiety this morning followed by what can only be described as a whirlwind of relief really taking the energy out of him. He also hadn’t realized exactly how mentally exhausting translating most things said to you into your native language in your head could be – his respect for Eiji, who had not only spent several months doing this, but also thrived as a sunny morning person, grew tenfold. Combined with the long journey from Tokyo this morning, plus the fact the bed smelled very strongly of Eiji and consequently of tranquillity, his body was screaming at him to give in to temptation and nod off.

<”Doesn’t count. Wasn’t in my room,”> Eiji said cheerfully.

<”Idiot…”>

<”Takes one to know one,”> he shot back. He got no reply, but the gentle deep breaths implied Ash had passed out. Eiji sighed. Ash had the ability to fall asleep quickly even in adversity when he wanted to, and sometimes even in absence of a proper bed, an ability he envied until he realised he had probably learnt it from living rough on the streets. He felt too excited and, dare he say, happy to sleep himself. <”Good night…”> He rolled onto his side, cuddling onto the soft toy lynx that had joined him on the floor, and attempted to at least rest even if sleep never came that night.

The next thing he knew, a panicked-sounding, unhappy whining sound woke him back up. Eiji sat upright, hair a mess like the nest of a desperate bird, sticking up in all directions, as he regarded the source of the noises with pity.

Ash having horrific night terrors was not unusual. He’d had them frequently in New York and, even now his old life was behind him and he was finally safe, it still haunted him. He jerked violently and woke himself up, making a noise somewhere between a sob and a gasp, breathing heavily like he’d just run a mile, cold sweat beading his forehead and dampening his neck. It took him a couple of seconds to remember where he was, remembering that he was safe and currently not even in America. He saw the silhouette of Eiji peering at him in the gloom.

“You still have nightmare?” he whispered in English, thinking that in his confused and disorientated state Ash may be better able to understand him if he used his native tongue.

“’M sorry…” Ash said shamefully.

“Why be sorry?” Eiji said kindly. “Lot of bad things happen to you. That hurt does not fade quickly. Nightmare understandable.”

“I’m pretty fucked up, Eiji,” he said sadly, his voice cracking as he threw an arm over his face to hide his eyes.

“You want talk?”

“I…I dreamed of Golzine. He was… he…” Ash found he couldn’t say what Golzine was doing. Whenever he dreamt of the Union Course don, the fat prick was usually naked and towering above him, pinning him in place with large, clammy hands and doing unspeakable things, leaving him feeling powerless and scared. Even in his dreams he couldn’t scream. If it wasn’t Golzine haunting his nightmares, it was usually Marvin, or his Little League coach, their leering, sweaty faces forever etched into his worst memories. His dreams and past reality blurred into one horrific mess of trauma and hopelessness. This time had been no exception, transforming him back into just a scared kid, frozen, exposed, completely helpless. Ash swallowed nervously before continuing, moistening his dry throat. “He told me I was no better than he was. That I was just like him… and I would never be able to escape that no matter what I did or where I went. He said that I was a bad egg and that I would ruin anyone I got close to…”

“Dream-Golzine is liar,” Eiji told him. “Am I ruined?”

“…No… but-”

“I think, if you bad egg, I be very ruined by now.”

“He told me a leopard never changes its spots and I should never have come here…”

“I glad you came.”

“You’re better off without me - I should have just stayed away!”

“That is for me decide what better for me, not you! I tell you before – you are not a leopard! And you not bad person either.”

“…”

There was silence for a moment, Ash continuing to hide his face while Eiji observed him contemplatively. After a minute or two of internal debate, Eiji made a decision.

“Move over,” he said, kicking the futon comforter off himself and standing up. He pushed lightly on Ash’s side, prompting him to shift over in the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“What it look like?” Eiji lifted the duvet and started crawling into the bed next to him. “I prove dream-Golzine wrong. You not bad and you belong here! Now move!”

It was a single bed, so there was barely enough room for both of them, but Ash found he didn’t care. The proximity to Eiji was comforting and made him feel at peace. He rolled over, laying an arm over him in a gentle manner, feeling his warmth and his unconditional affection seep into his very being like a soothing balm, erasing the pain of his past.

“I missed you, Eiji,” he told him quietly. “I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I know,” Eiji replied, pulling him in close. “I miss you too.”

“He died… I saw him die! He fell into a fire with two bullets in his chest! Nobody survives something like that… so why does he still have so much power over me?”

“He does not,” Eiji assured him. He knew Golzine had died; Sing had informed him of that fact, but not the exact manner in which it had happened. He hadn’t realised Ash had witnessed it though. That must have birthed several complex feelings in him. Golzine had been both his tormentor and, in a twisted, unhealthy way, his saviour. The man had pulled him out of the gutter and taught him how to be a god, but it went hand in hand with years of abuse and fear. “He is gone. You are free man.”

“I don’t feel very free…” Ash admitted sadly.

“You will,” Eiji assured him.

“I know I said you didn’t have to stay with me forever… God knows I don’t deserve you… but I’m not sure if I can live without you any more…”

“I stay forever if you want me to. Even when apart, I am with you. Always here.”

Ash found a strange word float into the forefront of his mind – kintsugi. The act of repairing a broken thing with gold so that the damage and flaws, while still present, became a beautiful and acceptable part of the item. He was cracked and broken in so many places, but Eiji had dropped into his life, accepting them willingly and without judgement, gently filling them with warm gold and making everything seem better and brighter somehow. He was never going to be the same again, his past forever blighting who he was and who he is, but that didn't mean the person he would become had to be ashamed or scared of it. He could grow as a person, and with the help of others he could slowly repair the damaged areas, even if they would never truly be gone.

They fell asleep entwined together in a platonic embrace, unsure even themselves where one of them ended and the other began.


	21. On This Wonderous Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash explores some of Izumo with Ibe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

When Ash woke up the next day, Eiji was gone. He was confused for a second, but a quick glance around the room revealed a note written in English on the bedside table, propped up in front of the clock. He reached out from the bed to grab it, squinting at it in the gloom to read the scrawl without his reading glasses.

_‘Ash,_

_Have a shift at work this morning. Forgot to mention it as was excited to see you! Too short notice to get holiday but I am going to ask for some time off until you go home – should not be an issue. Boss nice. She will understand._

_Tried waking you. You still sleep like rock!!!_

_Breakfast downstairs. Do not worry – no natto! See you later._

_Eiji.’_

One of the downsides of coming around unannounced was that Eiji couldn’t suddenly change his life to accommodate him. Ash hadn’t even considered that he might have had other commitments; he’d always just been there in the States, like a permanent feature buzzing around in the background, often only noticeable by his absence. He was a little disappointed that some of their precious time together was going to be stolen by retail work, but it couldn’t be helped. He looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was already nearly 9am. He groaned, rolled out of bed, and got dressed.

He found Ibe downstairs, messing with his camera at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, but apart from the photographer the rest of the house was quiet.

<”Morning…”> he yawned.

“Oh, Ash! Good morning,” Ibe greeted him. <”Good morning!”>

“Where is everyone?”

“Okumura-san is at work at canning factory, Kaori-chan is at school, and Ei-chan-“

“Eiji’s at work too. He left me a note,” Ash said. “Now I feel bad about just turning up unannounced…”

“He knew I was coming and still kept shift,” Ibe shrugged. “He is working hard for college.”

“He said he wants to do photography now.”

“He does have keen eye for photo,” Ibe nodded. “He has helped me many time. I think he will do well.”

“Yeah…”

“They left you breakfast on the counter. Also, there is green tea in teapot if you want some,” Ibe pointed to a couple of bowls on a small tray covered in cling film. Upon closer inspection, they contained white rice topped with a small piece of grilled mackrel, some rolled omelette slices and a large spoonful of seaweed kobachi. A sachet of ready-made miso soup sat in the other empty bowl. A brief scout around revealed an electric hot water heater steaming away on the side by the sink, the type that keeps water hot for hours and dispenses it from a nozzle with the touch of a button. He tore open the sachet and moments later had a warm bowl of miso to accompany his meal.

“This brings back memories,” he said, taking a seat opposite Ibe to eat. “Eiji always used to make breakfasts like this…”

“He made that one too,” Ibe said. “Okumura-san go to work very early and take food with her, so it usually Eiji doing the cooking.”

“No wonder it tastes familiar… he is a good cook, but he tends to use a bit too much salt.”

“You very picky.”

“What? Am not, Pops!”

“He said he going to try and find shrimp and avocado just for you, although may have difficulty with avocado. Not really popular here.”

Dammit, he remembered all the little things! One of the many things he liked about him really. Meanwhile, he sat here with absolutely no idea what Eiji’s favourite food was. He liked natto, that was about all he knew. He had eaten literally everything put in front of him without complaint and had served up some weird and wonderful things; narrowing it down to one or two favourites was impossible. If he suddenly wanted to surprise Eiji with his favourite meal, he wouldn’t be able to do it. Besides, he wasn’t great in the kitchen, and would likely burn everything. Toast was about his limit when it came to preparing food, maybe a boiled egg and some cereal on the side.

“Ei-chan finish work mid-afternoon,” Ibe said. “I was going to go to lighthouse and take photos. It is one of few places here I have not seen up close, so thought I would make most of quiet morning to go. You can come along if you like, but choice is yours if you want to stay here.”

“Nah, I’ll come,” Ash said. He really had nothing better to do here other than read, or maybe take another look at those tiny red shorts alone... No! Stop! Bad Aslan, do not go there! Guests do not do that in their host’s home! He could feel the unpleasant creep of shame infiltrate his thoughts for even contemplating such things. Think of cold showers…

The lighthouse was the best option available to him.

*

Ibe drove them down winding lanes to the Hinomisaki lighthouse, which really wasn’t all that interesting to Ash although it held a lot of cultural importance. A signboard outside written entirely in Japanese told him it was the tallest lighthouse in Japan and was built in 1903. It was pure white, towering above the landscape with a utilitarian purpose, but it didn’t look all that different to any of the lighthouses he had seen back on the Cape, although admittedly it was a lot taller. It was still just a large, round building with a big-ass lightbulb in it though. He sat himself on the cliff edge and watched the gulls wheeling around overhead while Ibe took his photos, gazing out over the Sea Of Japan at some islands in the bay. There was a boat bobbing around out there too, the small group of fishermen on board hauling in a net. It was very relaxing, sitting there, his legs dangling over an abyss just listening to the sound of waves, the screaming of gulls, a brisk breeze whipping his hair around as he inhaled the fresh sea air. He didn’t miss much about Massachusetts, but the abundant clean coastline was one thing he did yearn for. The beaches of New York with their polluted seas and noise and overcrowding just didn’t compare, the waterways always clogged full of dirty diesel-powered boats and massive cruise ships. It wasn’t like he ever had much time to just sit and reflect like this anyway.

You could climb the lighthouse for a few yen, but Ash decided against it. You had to remove your shoes, as you did most places in Japan, and the concrete floors looked cold and uninviting. Plus, there were a lot of stairs spiralling up to the observation deck, and he didn’t really fancy getting sweaty and gross this early on in the day. He let Ibe go alone while he went for a walk around the immediate area, strolling past patches of pine woodland sprouting out of the clifftop. There was a shrine just down the road, the buildings painted a bright vermillion red. What signage he could read, given it was nearly all in kanji and calligraphic to boot, declared it to be twin shrines to Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and Susanoo, the god of storms and the sea. He took a few pictures on his borrowed Kodak camera, including one selfie of himself with the shrine and the sea in the background. He had no clue what it was going to turn out like; ugly probably. A lovely photo straight up his nostrils with a blurred background.

Ibe rejoined him after about an hour, finding him seated on the stairs between the upper and lower sections of the shrine. He was watching a lone miko sweep the shrine grounds clear of the first autumn leaves with a birch broom.

“I take many good picture,” he said happily. “Weather is fair – you could see all the way out to Oki Islands!”

He suggested they grab a bite to eat, so they made their way into the tiny town of Hinomisaki and found an elderly salesperson nestled amongst the local fishmongers, his ancient face wrinkled like a prune from years of sun exposure, selling hot cups of cooked and shelled clams caught fresh that morning.

“You really like seafood,” Ibe said, watching him joyfully eat the tiny clams with a pair of bamboo chopsticks, picking them out delicately one-by-one.

“It’s a Cape thing,” he said dismissively. “You’re weird if you’re a New Englander and you don’t eat fish.”

“You like a cat!”

“Shut up!”

“Japan good place to be if you like fish,” Ibe laughed.

“What time does Eiji finish?”

“Around 2.30.”

Ash checked his watch. They had an hour; plenty of time to drive back into Izumo.

“Do you know where he works?”

“Yes, I do. Why?”

Ash grinned with a smile that was simultaneously angelic and satanic. “Let’s go surprise him!”


	22. The Bird Must Sing To Earn A Crumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji works! And his boss is intimidating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Ibe pointed out a Lawson convenience store located a fifteen-minute walk from the Okumura residence. It was just a standard 7-11 style convenience store, clean and well stocked like most shops of its kind in Japan, but lacking the personality and rough friendliness of the New York bodegas.

“Now we’re here, I’m not sure if I want to disturb him at work…” Ash said, hesitating. He wanted to see him, but despite Eiji insisting he was not at fault and what happened in America had merely sped up the process, he still blamed himself for Eiji ending up in the situation he was in. Maybe he should leave his current career well alone lest he somehow screw that up for him too.

“You are being very quiet today,” Ibe observed.

“I’m always quiet unless someone pisses me off, Pops!”

“You just as sarcastic as normal. This different quiet. Solitary quiet. Like you have many thought on mind.”

“Hmm…”

“I need more camera film,” Ibe said. “I will go in and buy some. Ei-chan doesn’t bite, you know, and the shop is quiet.”

With an uncharacteristic shyness, Ash followed Ibe into the shop.

<”Welco- oh! It’s you!”> Eiji, who had looked positively bored as he manned a till, perked up considerably when he saw who had entered. He was dressed in the distinctive blue-and-white striped shirt with the store brand name emblazoned on it, easily one of the ugliest shirts Ash had ever seen, yet Eiji somehow seemed to pull it off as a look with his youthful charm. He had a name badge pinned to his shirt pocket, his name written in kanji, and he had stuck a glittery smiley face sticker on it to express his quirkiness. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today – seems they were an at-home commodity only. Did vanity lead him to just deal with his short sightedness when out and about?

“No glasses?” Ash asked him.

“I wear contacts,” he shrugged. “Did in America too, but prescription ran out early on. Eye not that bad, can still see well enough, so did not make fuss. There more important things going on, and only person pick up on it was you anyway.”

“Aww, I think glasses suit you.”

“You just say that. Everyone here make fun of me in glasses. You have fun today?”

“Ibe took me to a lighthouse.”

“Hinomisaki?”

“Yeah, that’s the place.”

“It nice there. You see the ‘Umineko?’”

“Sea cats?”

“Seagull! Many gull there. Nest all over islands.”

“Oh! Yeah…”

“Sorry I could not come, but I am nearly finished here,” Eiji said. “Boss agreed to me taking rest of week off…”

<”Hey, Ei-kun, you going to introduce me or what?”> A woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties appeared from out the back office, dressed in the same horrible striped uniform, her black hair in a neat knot at the base of her neck. She had the familiar swagger of a gang member about her; the way she carried herself, the way she viewed him through narrowed eyes, very intimidating, especially for a woman. Instinctively, he went on the defensive around her. What he didn’t know is she used to be the leader of a girl biker gang when she was in high school, and had terrorised the local area with several other girls as one of the strongest gangs in Shimane Prefecture. As far as gang hierarchy went, she and Ash were on the same level, although like Ash she had relinquished her throne once she found someone she liked more than the streets. She had gone respectable for him, getting a job and very quickly graduating from a part-time shelf stacker to a full time employee, briefly touching on the duty manager position before spring-boarding her way into the ultimate position of authority within the store: the manager. The Japanese Karens with their 80s perms and power jackets never even knew what hit them when they asked for her!

“Speak of devil…” Eiji said. <”Shuura-san, this is Ash - that friend I was talking about.”>

<”The Yankee boy?”>

<”Yes.”>

<”It’s not fair, Ei-kun,”> she said. <”How did you of all people manage to find a hot guy like that while I remain single?!”>

<”I, erm… can understand Japanese,”> Ash said before Shuura embarrassed herself in the same manner Kaori had. Messing with Eiji’s sister was one thing, but if he did the same thing with his boss it could get him fired. She seemed like the type of person who would take no shit.

<”I know. Ei-kun told me you did. He told me a lot of things about you. And it’s not a lie - you are a hot guy,”> she said, shrugging. Seems Shuura’s attack was a planned one.

<”I not tea cup for everyone…”> Ash said, mangling the metaphor but getting the meaning across. He could see Eiji trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye and failing.

<”You understand Japanese, but seems like you can’t speak it too great, huh? You have any hot single Yankee friends in New York? Preferably straight ones.”>

“Err…”

<”Don’t answer that,”> Eiji told him. <”She’s kidding!”>

<”Say’s who?”> Shuura huffed.

<”Shuura-san actually has a boyfriend,”> Eiji said quietly. <”He’s really nice! She’s just teasing.”>

<”Make sure you keep Ei-kun out of trouble, ya hear?”> she told him. <”He’s my best underling! You can have him until Wednesday, then I want him back!”>

<”Yes ma’am!”>

Ibe came to the counter with four new rolls of film and a handful of other items he’d picked up around the store. Eiji rang him up cheerfully, scanning the items and accepting the notes Ibe left him on a small tray on the counter.

<”Here Ibe-san; 1095 yen change,”> he put the change and receipt on the tray. <”And that, I believe, is me done for the day!”>

<”Yeah, I’ll let you go home now,”> Shuura said, arms folded and faking a grumpy expression. <”Good work today! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Ei-kun!”>

<”That leaves me a surprisingly large amount of mischief to get into…”> Eiji told her cheekily, darting out of the way before she could cuff him good-naturedly around the head. <”I’ll go get changed. I’ll meet you in ten minutes!”>

<”Seriously kid, you better treat Ei-kun right,”> Shuura said to Ash once he’d vanished into the break room, a serious expression on her face. <”He’s been through a lot lately and could do with a good friend.”>

<”I know…”> Ash said.

<”I worry about him a lot. He is easily the kindest, most hardworking person I’ve ever met, and that includes my boyfriend who is an absolute sweetheart! He’s friendly to the customers and popular with the other staff, but he always seems sad. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He works all the overtime the Gods give him and never complains. With the exception of one afternoon for his father’s funeral, he’s never asked for time off until now either. Even then, I offered him the full day, but he refused – he attended the ceremony and then appeared for the remainder of his evening shift!”>

<”He like to help people,”> Ash said. <”He like keep busy. I think work make him happy.”>

<”Which is fine, but death by overwork is a thing here, ya know? To be truthful, I can’t really spare him this week, but I have never seen him this chipper before…”>

<”Really?”>

<”It’s nice to see. When he smiles genuinely it lights up the whole damn room! Puts my mind at ease from worrying over him too. There’s just something about him that makes me want to look out for him. I will say this to you though: Do not hurt him further!”>

<”What?”>

<”I do not know what you are to him. He does not talk about his time in America much with me, but any moron can see he likes you a lot. When he does speak, yours is a name that frequently comes up! However, that is also when he looks the most solemn. He gets this really misty-eyed thing going on. So show him a good time – he needs a break!”>

<”I will do best!”>

<”If you don’t… I’ll hunt you down… and I’ll break your spine.”>

Ash couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Her face was like a mask, but the glint in her dark eyes was serious. She reminded him a little of Shorter; teasing, but terrifying, and overly protective. He met her glare with an unflinching one of his own. 

<”Ash is the best friend Ei-chan has ever had,”> Ibe assured her. <”A lot happened in America, and some of Ei-chan’s depression is because he cannot visit the friends he made in New York.”>

<”That explains a lot! I’d be miserable too if all my friends were the other side of the globe!”>

<”I’m Shunichi Ibe, by the way. I’m a friend of Ei-chan’s.”>

<”Oh! The photographer, right?”>

<”That’s me, yes.”>

<”He speaks very highly of you. It’s great to finally meet you! I’ve seen some of your work in Tokyo Journal! It’s impressive!”>

<”No, it’s not really…”> Ibe looked embarrassed but also proud to have his work recognised.

<”Ei-kun said he gave you your big break?”>

<”I saw him vaulting on TV and it inspired me. I came to take photos for a university project, and things grew from there. It was thanks to him I decided that photography was the career for me. Ei-chan is like a little brother to me. I was there for him when he had his sporting injury, and I was the one who took him to America. His family situation doesn’t help him… his father dying hit him harder than expected,”> Ibe added sadly.

<”You sure got that right!”> Shuura sighed. <”It almost got to the point that I was going to force him to go home! He was always so pale, but he kept smiling!”>

Eiji returned, having changed out of his uniform shirt into a salmon pink T-shirt and green parka coat. The three of them immediately cut off their conversation, shifting uncomfortably.

“I am ready,” he said, beaming. “Shall we go?”

<”Have fun!”> Shura smiled, and wriggled some fingers in a childish wave to dismiss them. Eiji was right when he said his boss was nice to him. Her opinion of Ash, however, was harder to decipher. Ash wasn’t certain whether she liked him, hated him, or even if she saw him as a rival. She seemed mischievous but perceptive, difficult to read and certainly hard as nails, but she clearly cared for her employees. She would have been a popular boss on the streets, a big sister type of boss that everyone loved, the type of person he would rather have had as an ally than as an enemy. Typical Eiji though, not intimidated by her at all! Either he was so used to gang mentality in America it no longer scared him, or else it was an inbuilt blind and endearing trust and kindness that blinkered him to danger. Ash would go with the latter – it takes a special someone to request to hold his gun so boldly, plus he had a tendency to trust people too easily.

Eiji was tired from work and neither Ibe nor Ash really fancied driving back into Izumo, so they decided to take a leisurely walk along the banks of Lake Shinji instead. Due to Eiji’s neighbourhood being placed strategically between Izumo and Matsue by the shores of the lake, he knew several picturesque walks. He took them a couple of miles, occasionally pointing out some places of interest like a tour guide. It was peaceful, not having to rush around to see as much as possible in a short time. They didn’t talk much, Ibe being present and just the nature of the walk preventing any deep and meaningful conversation, but Ash found he didn’t care; just being with Eiji finally, after a year of separation, was enough.


	23. Each Scar I'll Keep For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory bath chapter! (Because every series needs either a bath, beach, or pool episode)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

“KYAAAAAAH!”

Kaori’s yell from the bathroom could be heard throughout the whole house. They’d barely been home ten minutes from their walk, Ibe choosing to continue his stroll by himself, when the cry of distress reverberated around the paper-thin walls.

“What the-?” Ash flinched at the sound. People didn’t usually shriek like that unless they were being murdered. Eiji, however, barely reacted.

<”It’s either a Joro spider, or….”>

<”THE BOILER’S BROKEN AGAIN!!!”>

<”…or the boiler is broken,”> Eiji sighed. <”It’s happened quite a lot recently. We need a new one, but we can’t afford it right now. Guess we’ll have to go to the public bath again for a while. I’m sorry, Ash.”>

“Sorry for what, exactly? Boilers break. It happens! Besides… I came here to experience Japanese culture, and I know public bathing is a big thing here…”

<”You are OK with being completely naked in front of everyone?”> EIji asked, genuinely concerned. <”There will likely be… older men, in the bath.”>

“As long as they’re not trying to fuck me, I’ll be OK,” he said, grimacing. “I’ll just… pretend they’re not there or something. I’ll imagine they’re statues.”

”Naked statues.”

“Beautiful European Renaissance statues, with their marble asses on show for all to see, and no Vatican enforced fig leaves!”

Eiji tittered, imagining Michelangelo carving a group of elderly Asian gentlemen enjoying naked skinship, their nude bodies bathing in a fountain in Florence or Rome, stone towels folded on their heads, art loving tourists throwing pennies at them for luck. 

<”Bathhouses very safe,”> Eiji assured him. <”Japanese are more concerned about being clean and enjoying the water than about… anything else. We are not prudish at all when it comes to bathing.”>

“It’s fine,” Ash said. “Besides, I’ll be with you. You’ll protect me.”

<”If we go now, it’s usually fairly quiet.”>

They packed bags with towels, toiletries, and a change of clothes, and met Kaori in the hall. Her hair was damp from her impromptu cold shower, and she looked grumpy, a similar bag over her shoulder as she waited for them.

<”I just wanted a nice hot bath after practice,”> she grumbled. <”Is that too much to ask for?”>

Together, they walked to the local sento. Eiji greeted the owner warmly; she was a tiny old woman in a green kimono, and apparently knew the Okumura’s well. The entry fee was pretty small anyway, but she charged them mate’s rates for entry and accepted a pittance for admittance. They left their shoes in the pigeon-hole-like storage by the entrance, then Kaori peeled off alone into the women’s baths and Ash followed Eiji through the blue noren curtain into the changing rooms. They had visited at a very quiet hour, too late for the elderly afternoon relaxers, too early for the 9-5 workers who had finished, and the changing rooms were empty. They began stripping, and it was only once they were down to their underwear that it occurred to him; he had never actually seen Eiji naked before. In America, he had showered alone, usually first thing in the morning before Ash was even awake. He always got changed in the bathroom too. He’d seen him shirtless a few times – Eiji had stripped off at the Cape after they got wet at the beach to enjoy a bit of sunbathing – but he had never seen anything between his waist and knees. It was sickening to think that Golzine had seen more of Eiji than he had, the fat bastard coming so close to defiling him... Eiji, meanwhile, had seen him in just his underpants on several occasions, had seen his butt while he lounged lying on his front in the bath, and had once voiced enthusiasm at the possibility of being shown his blonde pubic hair… he claimed he was joking, but Ash had his doubts.

Eiji had his back to him when he removed his Y-fronts. Ash caught a brief glimpse of shapely butt cheeks before he wrapped a modesty towel around his waist. When he turned around, the first thing Ash saw, with a lurch of guilt, was the scar right in the middle of his abdomen. The pale, knotted lump of angry flesh just off-centre under his ribs stood out in stark contrast to his smooth olive-toned skin, a blight on his otherwise perfect form. Several other smaller scars were dotted around it; surgery scars from where the doctors had done keyhole surgeries to save his life. Cain hadn’t been kidding when he had said he’d been shot in a bad place, and the bullet had lodged somewhere deep inside him. Not only had the bullet torn apart everything in its deadly wake, but it had to be gouged out of his body from wherever it had embedded itself. Ash had known bullets to ricochet off bones and end up lodged in completely different parts of the body to where they went in; God only knows what had happened to Eiji’s insides following his injury! Ash’s two stab wounds were positively neat in comparison, inch-long silvery-white lines barely even noticeable unless pointed out. Blanca had done a good job with his own bullet wound too, the Russian’s stitching neater than most surgeons and leaving just two tiny dimples to indicate where the bullet entered and then cleanly exited. He’d been shot in a relatively minor part of the lower abdomen, and had dodged at just the right time so the bullet barely pierced him, missing all his internal organs. It had still hurt like buggery though! He had a few other minor scars too; a slight discolouration on his shoulder from the bullet graze he received outside Club Cod and a few old knife-cuts on his arms from fights, the worst and latest being from his fight with Foxx, but nothing really worth crying about. Ash was lucky and tended to heal quickly and smoothly; Eiji apparently scarred easily, or else the American healthcare system had done a botch job patching him up. The fact Shorter’s knife attack had left no lasting signs and all other blemishes on his body were relatively minor, such as the crisp little scar on his arm from when he had jumped over the wall and the slightly puckered skin on his shoulder from where Blanca had shot him, suggested it was the latter. Ignoring the scars, he had maintained his athlete’s body; strong, lean, surprisingly muscular for someone so small but not so much as to be hunky or jacked, the ghost of a six-pack still evident even after a couple of years of inactivity.

<“I knew it - you really are blonde everywhere!”> Eiji said to tease him, drawing Ash’s attention to the fact he hadn’t covered up his shame quite as effectively as Eiji had and everything was on show.

<”Pervert…”> he growled, blushing and grabbing a towel.

They went into the main bathing area, Ash feeling very exposed as he gripped a small woven reed basket with a bar of soap, a sponge, small flannel towelette and a travel-sized bottle of shampoo in it. There were two men already in the bath, aged maybe in their 50s, and they seemed to know Eiji. They greeted him joyfully when they went in, conversing as normally as they would with anyone fully clothed.

<“Hey – Eiji! It’s been a while!”>

<”Kobayashi-san! Honda-san! Hello!”>

<”Haven’t seen you around the track much recently.”>

<”I’ve been busy with my part-time job.”>

<”Well, I hope you can find some spare time to come down there again soon. The boys miss you! They keep asking me ‘where is senpai?’”>

<”I’ll try and come more often, Kobayashi-san.”>

<”Who’s the blondie?”>

<”He’s a friend of mine from America. He’s visiting for a week.”>

<”He blonde everywhere, if you know what I’m sayin’?”>

<”I cannot possibly answer that, Honda-san. And don’t you dare stare at him like he’s a museum specimen just because he’s foreign, you hear me?”> Eiji scolded the older gentleman, hands on his hips and emitting a protective aura. <”It’s his first time in a Japanese-style bath, so be nice!”>

<”I’m only kiddin’, Ei-kun!”>

He thought he’d be ok around older men, had convinced himself that this was just a bathroom and he was safe, but he could already feel fight or flight instincts starting to kick in. If they had remained silent, he could have ignored them, but the moment they talked and especially the moment they had mentioned him, he baulked. He somehow kept his expression neutral, but he was about ready to nope out of there and forgo bathing for a day. Eiji seemed to pick up on his hidden reluctance and gently grabbed his wrist, dragging him over to the showers.

<”You ok?”>

<”I am ok.”>

“Ignore them. They harmless - I promise!” he muttered to him, taking a seat at one of the low stools, removing his towel to place it on a shelf out of the way to keep it dry and turning on one of the showers. “Kobayashi-san work at local athletic track. He train kids in track and field. I have known him since I was in middle school, but I got new coach at high school when I start competing. Sometimes I help at track, but mainly I go there to run. Cannot vault any more, but still do long distance run for health. Honda-san is fisherman and also member of athletics club. Those two best friend! They crude, but good people.”

“What is it with you people and my pubes?” Ash hissed, awkwardly sitting himself down next to him. Sitting down to shower when you were not depressed was a bit of a novel concept for him, but the position you took hunched up on the small wooden stools did at least allow you to tuck everything neatly between your legs so people wouldn’t stare.

“Blonde unusual,” Eiji shrugged, raining hot water down onto his hair. “Pale foreigner like rare beast. People curious, but it mainly joke.” He put the showerhead back in the clip on the wall so he could thoroughly scour his scalp with shampoo, rubbing so vigorously with clawed hands that it was a wonder he wasn’t bald. It explained why his hair was always so soft and clean though; no dirt was going to survive an onslaught like that! Still wary of the eyes of others upon him, Ash followed suit on getting himself clean, using a more gentle technique to massage shampoo onto his head, combing it down through his hair with his fingers and using a soapy flannel to wash the rest of himself with while Eiji scrubbed at his own body with a rough sponge until his skin was pink. No wonder he had always been so heavy-handed with his first aid, if this is how he cleaned himself!

“You want me do back?” he asked, holding up the sponge. Ash couldn’t really turn him down, he looked so happy. He nodded, dreading the harsh exfoliation he was likely about to receive but… when bathing him, Eiji was gentle. He swiped the sponge lightly up and down his back and over his shoulders. It felt oddly soothing, almost comforting, and despite there being two old geezers (well, not THAT old, but anyone over the age of twenty-five was an old geezer to Ash) in the bath it was very intimate. He relaxed into it, enjoying the sensation.

“Wait… how come if you can be this gentle, you never have been before?” he asked him.

“I do not know what you mean. I always gentle!”

“Fuck you are…”

“Maybe you too sensitive,” Eiji muttered. He dropped the sponge over Ash’s shoulder into his lap. “Do me now?”

“Demanding, ain’tcha?”

“I wash your back, you wash mine! Only fair!”

“Fine.”

It was up there with one of the most surreal nude things he had ever done, and he had done some pretty weird things while naked before. At least this was a pleasant task, unlike the vast majority of others where he had been forced to take on certain positions or do uncomfortable things. Washing the back of someone you actually liked was a very pleasing and… maybe slightly arousing chore. The way the suds trickled over Eiji’s shoulder blades and chased down the valley of his spine to the curve of his backside… how the act of cleaning was dangerously similar to groping, wandering hands prevented only by the sponge between palm and bare, wet skin… Oh no. Not now. This isn’t fair! Go back to sleep, little Aslan – now is a really bad time for you to decide to wake up! He squeezed his thighs together and forced his mind to think of American politics, hoping maybe the facts he knew about the murder of JFK would be enough to kill any libido he was experiencing before it got too bad.

“Done,” he squeaked, dropping the sponge onto Eiji and then rinsing himself off with a bucket of icy water, trying not to wince as the cold hit him like a ton of bricks. That did it. Any growth he had going on down there instantly retreated from the cold shock, and the shame he felt for his mind wandering into forbidden realms kept it away. Embarrassment averted. Safe! 

Clean in body even if not totally in mind, he replaced the modesty towel so he could stand up and not flash everyone while he and Eiji tip-toed to the bath.

<”We’ll leave you boys to it,”> Kobayashi said, standing with a satisfied groan and wading out of the bath with Honda following close behind, grasping small towels that had previously sat folded on top of their heads and covering themselves with them, but only after giving both boys a brief but full frontal view of middle-aged genitalia. Ash averted his eyes, having seen more than enough older-man dong in his life without willingly looking upon any more, but Eiji barely even batted an eyelid, used to the sight of completely naked men bathing together after years of cultural integration.

<”Have a good evening Kobayashi-san, Honda-san,”> he said cordially as they left. “Nice men,” he added. “I think they know you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not…” Ash lied.

“Bath all ours now! I love when bath is empty.” He took off the towel, folded it neatly, and carefully padded down the steps into the concrete tub – oh God, he was uncircumcised! And it was so cute and neat, just like he was…. Shit no! Don’t think about that! How is he so comfortable in the buff? He usually seemed so modest… stupid cultural norm…

Eiji waded through the waist-deep water to sit in the middle with his back against the side. <”It’s so warm! Come in! Sit with me!”>

Tentatively, Ash dipped his toes in the tub, standing nervously on the first step. He was going to have to remove the towel so it didn’t taint the water… why was this so hard? This was supposed to be relaxing and pleasant! He’d been naked plenty of times before. People had taken photos and made films of him in the nude! This was just a simple bath with a guy he trusted with his life. Maybe that’s why it was so awkward… being naked in front of others with no ulterior motives for being that way was just… unnatural for him? It wouldn’t be an issue if they were allowed swimwear or something. What had happened to his old shamelessness? He saw Eiji watching him curiously with that disconcerting stare of his.

“Stop staring at me…” he said uncomfortably. Eiji rolled his eyes, but he looked away until he was safely in the water.

<”Why are foreigners so uptight?”> Eiji asked rhetorically. <”It’s just a penis! And I’ve already seen it.”>

“’Just a penis’, he says…” muttered Ash. “Most people buy me a drink first!”

He had to admit though, sitting in the warm water up to his chin with Eiji was pretty relaxing. He could feel the tension that he hadn’t even realised he had been holding lifting from his shoulders and legs as the hot water melted it away. After about fifteen minutes, he started to feel light-headed.

“I feel dizzy…” he said sleepily.

“Then get out, go cool off,” Eiji told him firmly. “You do not want faint in bath. Have cool shower.”

Ash hesitated before standing fully upright, grasping the modesty towel.

“I no watch,” Eiji promised. He put a hand over his face. “See – I close eye! Go on! Get out! Hide blonde American penis!”

“Shut up…” Ash grumbled, embarrassed. He wrapped the small towel around himself the moment his scrotum was free of the water and tottered a little unsteadily back to the showers to cool off under a quick spritz of tepid water. He felt much better afterwards. Eiji hoisted himself out of the tub, standing by the door to the changing room waiting for him, holding the two baskets with their toiletries in.

“Feel better?” he asked when Ash joined him, passing over his basket.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Many people faint in bath, especially if not used to it. Must be careful! Drink plenty of water!”

“Yes Mom.”

They dried off and got dressed, meeting Kaori outside. She had brought them all drinks from the vending machine by the shoe storage, handing them both bottles of sweet strawberry milkshake when they came out.

<”Got you a milkshake,”> she said, smiling. <”How do you like ‘naked skinship’, Ash?”>

“Please don’t call it that…”

<”He is like a puritan when it comes to nudity,”> Eiji said. <”Very awkward! It’s pretty funny!”>

“I’m just… not used to being naked so casually… Can we drop it?”

<”You did very well,”> Eiji told him quietly and seriously as they walked home, Kaori ambling ahead and humming to herself happily, like a joyful child. <”Public bathing can be tricky for some foreigners, and when I saw Kobayashi-san and Honda-san in there… I did worry you might panic. They were a little full-on!”>

“I told you I’d be ok,” Ash said. “What was there to be afraid of? Like I said… I had you with me protecting me.”

<”I bet Kobayashi-san made for a beautiful statue!”> Eiji quipped.

Ash snorted with laughter.

*

“Hey Ash?”

“Hmm…?”

“You awake?”

“Well, I’m certainly not asleep.”

Ash lay on his side in the bed, contemplating several things to himself like he often did before sleep. Partly he was thinking how cute ‘sea cats’ was as a name for seagulls, but he was also mulling over a few more complicated feelings relating to a certain scar on a certain someone’s stomach, and certain words his boss had mentioned about him being melancholy and taciturn. Neither of those were words he personally would use to describe the sunshine boy he knew. While he couldn’t lay the blame for Eiji’s depression entirely on his own head, Eiji having had issues even before coming to the States, his actions over the last year had not helped him. He wished he was better at articulating his feelings; maybe then he could have written a damn letter! He lay in the dark, feeling selfish as his demons once again reminded him of what an awful person he was, and what a terrible friend he’d been. He had thought Eiji was already asleep on his futon but, apparently, he was wrong.

“You have been very quiet this evening.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“I worry something bothering you…” Eiji said. A horrible thought occurred to him. “Was bath that uncomfortable? I sorry I made fun of you! I should know better! Should have known it would have made you feel bad! I am stupid - I should never have forced you!”

“Eiji, I’m fine. Really! You have literally done nothing wrong. At all. Ever!”

It was adorable the way he worried for him. The bath, once he’d gotten over the initial unrest of being naked in front of older men, had overall been more bizzare than anything else. A culture shock, yes, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and having Eiji with him had helped considerably. If he’d had to go in alone it would have been a different story, but together… it had been fun. Maybe even a little therapeutic. Plus, he’d got to see Eiji naked. All in all, the positives outweighed the negatives and he’d go again, although it may take some time and therapy before he would feel confident enough to bathe solo. They were silent for a while, both waiting for the other to say something, working up the courage to speak into the void. Eiji broke the silence with a quiet, sheepish request from the floor.

<”Can I come up?”>

Ash said nothing in reply, but he moved over in the bed to make space. Eiji left his futon and crawled into the gap he left behind. They lay back to back under the covers.

<”I’m sorry… Mum told me a plumber is coming tomorrow. The bath will be fixed.”>

<”You apologise too much,”> Ash sighed. He rolled over, adjusting his position so he was spooning Eiji, a hand resting on his shoulder as he touched his forehead lightly against the nape of his neck. “I had a good time.”

<”You’re just saying that…”>

“I’m not lying,” he said. “It was different, and yeah, being naked in the open was weird but… I enjoyed it.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding something he could guarantee would get a reaction. “Seems I’m not the only one with a cute butt, ‘Ei-nii’!”

He physically felt Eiji cringe under him, could almost feel the heat of the blush rising in his face, hear his heartbeat quicken.

“You really are dark everywhere!” he added with a snicker of laughter too.

Eiji kicked him in the shins.

<”Idiot…”>


	24. How Fits His Umber Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji forces Ash to wear traditional clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

The morning of the Matsue no Gyoretsu saw the entire Okumura household descend into a hive of activity as they prepared for the festival. Okumura-san prepared breakfast, freeing up Eiji to get ready. He had answered the door still in his pyjamas when the bell chimed at 7.30am. An emergency plumber had turned up bright and early, strolling into the fray with a toolbox in one hand and, after examining the boiler for about five minutes and fiddling about inside with a wrench, he reignited the pilot light and the issue was solved, the easiest ¥4,000 he would earn that day. Eiji had paid him with a couple of crisp notes from his wallet, grateful for the fast service and glad that they wouldn’t need to use the sento again, but also weeping inside at the cost. It had eaten considerably into his wages from that week, but it was worth it to have hot running water again.

When Ash finally woke up, roused by the sounds of a busy household, Eiji had dumped a pile of clothing on top of his lap when he sat up in bed.

<”Here – wear these today!”> he said with a joyful smile. <”You still fit my size, I think. Traditional clothing is designed to fit all shapes and sizes anyway.”>

Ash recognised one item of the clothing as being the colourful happi-coat that had been in Eiji’s wardrobe, patterned in deep indigo and bright vermillion in a repeating traditional rosette. The back had a large round motif with some kanji spelling out an inspirational phrase. He thought it said something along the lines of ‘Pride, Power, People’, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He found calligraphic-style tricky to read, like cursive English, with its loops and organic nature, plus his knowledge of kanji was limited anyway. There was also a pair of plain black trousers that were Eiji’s (they looked like his old school trousers) and a white T-shirt he recognised as his own that Eiji had clearly dug out of his suitcase.

“Wait… don’t you wanna wear this?” he held up the coat quizzically.

“I wear father’s old coat,” Eiji said. “It exactly same.”

“Locals aren’t going to be upset at me wearing this, are they?”

“Why they be upset? You are joining in, getting into festival spirit! Having good time with them – they will be happy!”

“Well, a white person in traditional wear of a culture that isn’t theirs…”

“There companies in Kyoto make living dressing white people in traditional clothing just for photo. We all wear American clothing all the time! You not offended by me wearing jeans, no? Just wear the coat, Ash.”

Ash did as he was told, rolling out of bed and getting dressed. The happi-coat fit like a short smoking jacket, with a similar tie-belt fastening around the waist, making it super comfortable to wear. One thing he did remember to do at least, something that Mai had drilled into him: “leftover rice”. You always wear the left-hand side flap over the right unless you were dead. Eiji had vanished briefly into his Mother’s room and when he came back out he was wearing an identical coat and had a white patterned hachimaki tied around his forehead under the fringe of his hair. He looked positively adorable.

“What you think?” He asked Ash, holding his arms out to show off. “You not seen me in Japanese clothes before!”

“It’s cute!” Ash told him.

“What?! It not meant be cute - it meant be manly!”

“You can be manly and cute,” Ash said, grinning.

<”Not fair at all… It looks very manly on you… stupid sexy foreigner…”> Eiji muttered.

<”I understand you,”> Ash reminded him.

<”Good!”> Eiji replied. He flipped him the bird. <”Then do you understand this too, Yankee?”>

Ash returned the gesture with one of his own, smirking. “Of course! The traditional greeting of American street youths! How could I forget my roots?”

<”What are you two doing”> Kaori walked in on them making rude hand gestures at each other. She was dressed in yet another identical happi-coat. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she was also wearing a hachimaki headband like her brother. With her hair up and dressed alike, you could see the family resemblance strongly. They had the same eyes, the same hair colour, the same noses, the same expressions… She was literally a female version of Eiji, slightly shorter and slimmer with the barest curvature of breasts visible under her coat.

“Oh my God, you’re fucking twins!” Ash told them. He was trying not to laugh as he remembered Eiji’s words about his sister being a ‘horrible, ugly girl’. He had pretty much just burned himself with that statement. “You look identical!”

<”I do not look like him!”>

<”I do not look like her!”>

“You even react alike! That’s adorable!”

<”Just because all Asians looks alike to you Americans…”> Kaori muttered

“Hey, I have hung out with enough Chinese people to know that you do not all ‘look alike’,” Ash laughed. “But in this case, yes, you do.”

<”Do you want me to hit him, Kaori, because I will…”>

“Bring it!” Ash threatened him light-heartedly. “You know you can’t win against me, Eiji!”

<”If he wasn’t a guest in this house, I’d hit him,”> Kaori growled.

<”He has a real knack for pissing people off,”> Eiji said. <”Sometimes, I wonder why we’re even friends.”>

<”Because I am amazing,”> Ash said sarcastically.

<”You look good, for an asshole,”> Kaori added. <”And if you buy me some yakisoba later, I may even forgive you!”>

<”Deal!”>

<”Mum says breakfast is ready, by the way,”> she said. <”You better come down and eat it; we need to be out of here by 9 if we’re going to help Auntie Sakura with the prep work.”>


	25. It Sounded As If The Streets Were Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash experiences Matsue's Drum Festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

‘Prep work’ turned out to be ‘look after these kids for me’. Minoru Sakura was Okumura-san’s sister and, like Okumura-san, was a single mother albeit through a messy divorce rather than the more tragic circumstances of the Okumura’s. She had three children; a seventeen-year-old girl, and two boys aged ten and four. The girl, Hiyoko, was apparently best friends with Kaori as well as being her cousin. They both vanished from sight upstairs the minute the Okumura’s arrived with Ash and Ibe awkwardly in tow. The two young boys, meanwhile, swarmed Eiji the moment he stepped over the threshold.

“EIJI!” they cried as they tackled him. He just about managed to keep his footing as they launched themselves at waist and chest height at him.

<“Tetsuya! Yuuri! Ooof, you’re getting so big!”> he said, smiling. While Kaori went to school with Hiyoko and saw her most weekdays, Eiji had been busy with work and hadn’t seen his cousins for several months. <”Tetsuya, you’re almost as tall as me now!”>

<”That’s because you’re a shrimp!”> Tetsuya, the older of the two, shrieked at him.

<”Hey! Mean!”>

<”Who that?”> Yuuri, the younger boy, had noticed Ash and was now staring at him warily. He had rarely if ever encountered foreigners before, and Ash’s pale features made him really stand out even amongst other white people. <”He looks weird. Like the people on TV.”>

<”That’s because he is American,”> Eiji explained. <”His name is Ash. He’s my friend.”>

<”Grandad doesn’t like Americans…”> Yuuri grumbled. <”He says they’re all loud and obna…. Obsta…. Obalaba….”>

<”Obnoxious?”>

<”Yeah!”>

<”That’s because Grandad fought in the war, so he’s met a lot of horrible Americans,”> Eiji said. <”But just because he doesn’t like Americans it doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Ash is nice and I like him very much. He can speak Japanese too. Say hello to him!”>

<”Hello Ash.”>

<”Hello…”> Ash replied, a little cautiously. This kid apparently came with some built in prejudices. He may be difficult to appease. Yuuri let go of Eiji to go stand by him and stare. Then the questions started. Thankfully, he had gotten plenty of practice with Michael at dealing with small children.

<”Why is your hair that colour?”>

<”I am blonde,”> he said. <”I born this colour.”>

<”Why?”>

<”Because my mother also blonde.”>

<”Why was she blonde?”>

<”Because she was a fairy.”>

<”Really?”>

<”Yes. I am part elf.”>

<”Are all Americans blonde because they’re part elf?”>

<”No. Just me.”>

And so it went on, Ash answering truthfully the things he could describe simply, and making up stories for things he couldn’t without entering deep biological science or historical knowledge beyond what a four year old would be able to grasp or, for that matter, he would be able to describe in Japanese. His knack for dealing with young children transcended cultures, because it didn’t take long before Yuuri was smitten with him, grabbing him by the hand and leading him into the lounge to meet his mother.

“Eiji, I think your cousin is kidnapping me!” Ash told him as he was dragged by.

“He like you!” Eiji said. “Feel honoured! Yuuri hard to please.”

Eiji helped his cousins get dressed in their happi-coats properly, fixing Yuuri’s so he had the flaps the right way around, and helping Tetsuya tie his headband tightly so it wouldn’t keep slipping over his eyes. They were the same pattern as the Okumura’s were, blue and red rosettes with the slogan on the rear. Yuuri continued to bombard Ash with questions all through the procedure.

<”If you’re American, does that mean you’ve fired a gun?”>

<”Yes. Many times. I have good aim.”>

<”Do you own a gun?”>

<”Yes.”>

<”Have you got it with you?”>

<”No. I left it in America.”>

<”Aww… I wanted to hold it!”>

He was Eiji’s cousin alright!

Kaori reappeared with Hiyoko, now also suitably dressed, and the family was ready to go. The procession was due to start at the boys’ elementary school, so they walked as one group the short distance around the block, a few other members of the neighbourhood coming out to join them, most of them dressed in the same traditional way.

<”Tetsuya and Yuuri are drum bearers this year,”> Eiji told him. <”They get to help pull the drum through the street with other children from the neighbourhood. We follow them with the other adults, chanting and cheering, and everyone will get a chance to beat the drum to ward off evil spirits and celebrate! Just copy me and we’ll have fun!”>

The drums in question stood ready to roll in the playground out the front of the school. They were absolutely humungous – two great round skin drums, waist height with diameters of at least 2 metres. Ash felt like he could lie on top of one spread out like the Vitruvian man and still have room to spare around the edges. The cart pulling them was easily the size of a large SUV or small truck, wooden framed with large wheels, a canopy covering the drums to protect them from the elements, paper lanterns and rope threaded with paper seals decorating it like a shrine. It was hard to believe kids would be the ones dragging this monster through the streets, but the gathering youngsters of varying ages from four to twelve looked excited and eager, chattering happily and joking around, spirits high.

“Just how heavy is that thing?” Ash asked Eiji.

“I do not know, but it surprisingly easy to pull for big thing,” he replied. “Matsue children strong!”

Neighbourhood helpers got the children organised into set groups, two for pulling the front prongs (where you’d expect to find a heavy carthorse rather than a dozen small kids), and two groups pushing the rear. They would switch positions halfway round. In the distance, clamouring noise could be heard as other neighbourhoods started their march. A few words of readiness were spoken… and the wheels began to roll, the kids chanting a Japanese ‘heave ho’ equivalent, the drums moving slowly at first but gaining momentum as the children tugged and pushed at the cart. The teenagers and adults followed behind, starting up a war-cry-like chanting. Some held flagpoles and banners with their neighbourhood crests upon. The procession went through the streets to converge with other neighbourhoods at the castle.

Around the castle, things started to get noisy. The drumming hadn’t even started yet, but everyone was in a jolly mood, with plenty of whoops and cheers. Their neighbourhood had a friendly rivalry with another from the opposite end of town, and a few playfights and moments of good-natured roughhousing kicked off as the rowdier inhabitants clashed. The drums paused by the castle entrance; Ash counted 30 distinct groups of people, most dressed traditionally, each neighbourhood having a differently patterned happi-coat. As the noonday sun rose high in the sky, the opening ceremony started. It was loud and excitable, and with all the background noise and hubbub he found it impossible to understand the shouted Japanese declarations. However, when they started throwing rice cakes, Eiji shouted to him in English as he scrambled forward.

“Try and catch one! It bring good luck!”

One flew right at him and with his lightning reflexes he grabbed it before it hit him in the face.

“Eiji! I got one!”

The Okumura’s cheered as he held the small, white treat aloft. He gave it to Yuuri, who seemed to be in awe at his catching ability and who had been unable to catch one for himself, being too short to reach above the eager hands of the other children. He treasured it like it was the greatest prize ever given to him.

Things got loud afterwards. The drummers started beating out a steady rhythm, but with thirty carts each with two Do drums that is a lot of noise and rhythm. Many of those not manning the drums played tunes on bamboo flutes or bashed cymbals together, or else chanted and sang. Everyone was encouraged to have a go at beating upon the drums, from the smallest child to the eldest little old lady. Eiji dragged Ash up with him where he was handed a pair of huge wooden batons by a beaming middle-aged man with a shiny bald pate who made encouraging hand gestures at the drum.

<“Hit the drum, Ash!”> Eiji encouraged him. <”Bang it with me! Don’t worry about your technique, just hit it! Let’s make some noise!”>

Ash felt a little misplaced, but he joined in, trying to match the healthy rhythm Eiji was pounding out on his own drum. It was loud, the low sound of the drums reverberating in his chest, but he grinned as he did his best to show off some neighbourhood pride. He passed the batons over to a thirty-something lady, who took over with an enthusiastic melee.

After an hour of showing off their neighbourhood’s skills to each other, the children once again started to tug and push on the carts, wheeling the drums in a slow but steady parade down the main streets, now accompanied by drummers riding along and beating the drums as they went. They split into two groups, heading in opposite directions through the city. It reminded Ash a little of the Macy’s day parade at thanksgiving, only without the giant balloons or garish floats. There was just as much noise and jubilation however, and most of the city had lined the streets to watch the procession and to join in. The drummers changed regularly; strangers enticed up to also have a turn beating out a rhythm on the drums. He found he couldn’t help but join in the repetitive chanting, cheering and singing along once he picked up the lyrics to the marching songs. His throat was beginning to feel scratchy by the end of it. The only quiet person there was Ibe, and even he was singing along as he was snapped hundreds of photos of the event, having a go on the drum at Eiji and Kaori’s insistence.

All too soon it came to an end, the echoes of the drums dying and the streets falling silent again. Respective neighbourhoods returned their Do drums to the start points, and families peeled off to return home.

<”Did you have a good time?”> Eiji asked him, removing his headband as they wearily made their way back to his aunts for a brief bit of respite.

“I had no idea you Japanese could be so loud,” Ash replied. He was giving Yuuri a piggyback after he had complained he was tired, the small Japanese boy clinging to him like a limpet. Eiji told him he was spoiling him, but Ash didn’t mind.

<”That’s not what I asked you…”>

<”Yes. It was fun!”>

<”Good! I knew you’d enjoy yourself!”>

“Nothing like a parade to raise spirits, huh?”

“You were very good at banging!”

“Err… may want to change that phrasing! There are kids present.” He gestured with his head to Yuuri over his shoulder.

<”Ah! I meant the drum, Ash!”> Eiji said, but a light flush dusted his cheeks. <”Why must you make everything an innuendo?”>

<”Natural talent,”> he smirked.


	26. In Thy Long Paradise Of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lantern festival fluff...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

After nightfall, Eiji took Ash back into the centre of Matsue for the lantern festival. Yuuri had reluctantly peeled himself off Ash after dinner to go to bed and Tetsuya had opted to stay home, having seen the lanterns that year several times already, claiming they were ‘sissy, girly things’, so they were blissfully alone.

<”They hold it every weekend from mid-September to late-October,”> Eiji explained as they walked through the dark suburbs from his aunt’s house back towards the castle. <”Kaori and I always visit after the drums. It’s usually a pleasant end to a fun day. We get some food at the night stalls and then take a ride on the sightseeing boat to the castle – it takes you all the way along the banks and you can see all the lanterns on the shore! It’s really beautiful! We get tea in the castle, then walk back. We skipped the boat last year because I was in a wheelchair, but we still walked along the waterside.”>

<“It sound beautiful.”>

<”Matsue is known as the Water City, because it is surrounded by lakes and coastline and several waterways run through it. It is like… Japan’s answer to Venice, I suppose?”>

“Is it OK that your sister isn’t with us?” Ash asked. “It sounds like I’m ruining a family tradition here?”

“She OK. She with Hiyori. She like her better than me anyway,” Eiji shrugged. <”She left me last year to go off with her and their other friends. That was after she tried to tip me out of my chair and into the moat. I guess we’re both growing up and going our own way.”>

“I still haven’t brought her any yakisoba…”

<”She’ll survive.”>

“Yes, but will she forgive me, that is the question,” Ash queried, making Eiji laugh.

“You can buy me it instead,” he said. “Kaori does not deserve noodles anyway.”

The castle island came into view, treelined and dark in the nighttime, moat walls standing tall and pale, illuminated by the flickering yellow glow of thousands of paper lanterns lit all along the paths alongside the canals. It looked completely different in the darkness, almost supernatural. There were a few food stalls and souvenir salespeople clustered by the docks, where tour boats bobbed awaiting people to transport. It was surprisingly quiet; Ash had been expecting more people, like the madness of the afternoon, but while there were several folks milling around it wasn’t the hustling, heaving mass he was expecting, and a hush had descended upon the residents leaving the evening quite peaceful.

“Are you hungry?” Eiji asked him. “You mentioning yakisoba make me really want some now.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Ash brought two portions from the jolly salesman, who expertly fried the noodles on a hot plate with a couple of small metal spatulas, scooping up two healthy-sized portions into boat-shaped paper dishes. They ate them stood under a weeping willow tree, staring out over the water at the boats floating by, waving in greeting at the passengers, everything around them lit with a warm ethereal candlelight. The noodles were hot and fresh, not greasy like Ash had been expecting, the vegetables still crunchy and the thin strips of pork tender, tasting wonderfully of umami with just enough salt.

<”Tasty!”> he declared them to be.

<”Hah! Finally found a junk food you’ll eat!”> Eiji teased.

“The calories don’t count if you can eat it standing up in the street,” Ash argued jokingly. “Besides, I eat ramen…”

<”Ramen isn’t junk food; it’s a way of life!”>

Once they’d finished, they returned to the pier and joined the queue for the boat tours, and it wasn’t long before they boarded a small water ferry steered by a young man in traditional dress wearing a reed hat and a white jinbei. They somehow managed to get front-row seats at the prow of the boat, sheltered by the canopy and joined by ten other people, most of them young couples.

<”Oh wow! You can see everything from here!”> Eiji said excitedly as the boat set off on its lazy cruise through the castle moat. <”Kaori and I never managed to get to the front before!”>

Ash figured it was that ‘overabundance of luck’ the nurse in the Presbyterian Hospital said he had finally working in a helpful and obvious way, or else that rice cake he caught earlier was coming into its own. He had to admit though, the view from here was spectacular; lanterns lined the water’s edge, their reflected glow glittering playfully in the ripples formed by the wake of the boat. There was something magical in the way they lit up the night, trees illuminated softly from below and pathways twinkling with multicoloured light tinted from the varying colours of paper used in making the lanterns. The boat chugged along under several extremely low and picturesque bridges, some of them lit up with lanterns of their own. He looked over at Eiji, who was wearing a smile just as soft and beautiful as the lanternlight. His face was aglow with the illuminations all around them, hundreds of shimmering star-like reflections dancing in his eyes. Ash’s heart fluttered in his chest; Eiji may not be classically beautiful, definitely leaning more towards the cute end of the spectrum, but Ash found himself wondering how one human being, at least to him, could be so perfect.

They disembarked at the castle pier, strolling together through the maze of lanterns placed in the open lawns and gardens surrounding the castle itself. They paid for entry into the castle, climbing up steep, narrow staircases in their stockinged feet to the top floor, where green tea and traditional sweets were being served to guests overlooking the grounds. They took a seat upon two cushions overlooking the pier, and the friendly lady serving them took their photo using Ash’s borrowed camera.

<”I should have brought camera really,”> Eiji said, looking a little disappointed with himself for not bringing one.

<”I send you photo copy when developed,”> Ash promised. <”First thing I do. Swear!”>

<”You get the best view from up here,”> Eiji sighed, cupping his teacup in both hands and gazing out the window at the lanterns strewn in a seemingly random way on the grass.

“It certainly is beautiful…” Ash admitted, sipping the boiling tea carefully. It scalded his tongue but was delightfully bitter. It complimented the overly sweet chestnut wagashi he’d been presented with well.

<”I wonder how Ibe-san is doing with his photos?”> Eiji pondered.

“Ibe’s photography skills are great, so I bet he’s down there getting some amazing shots.” 

They finished their tea and went back out into the castle grounds. They took photos of each other crouched amongst the lanterns and walked deeper into the illuminated grounds. The parkland here was pretty much deserted, most of the visitors clustered in the lantern fields in front of the castle and around the pier, but the illuminations continued into the grounds and softly lit up the island paths with their flickering glow. Behind the castle, at the top of a narrow flight of stone steps, was an Inari shrine, the twin fox guardians glaring down, each holding a Chinese lantern in their mouths that someone had hung there.

<”Cute!”> Eiji said, pointing at them.

<”They not only cute thing here,”> Ash said quietly. They were standing very close together, their shoulders touching, the heat of Eiji’s body pleasantly radiating into his side. Eiji looked up at him quizzically at his statement; what else was cute apart from the fox statues? Ash wasn’t looking at the foxes.

“Ash…?”

Ash reached up his right hand tentatively, before gently carding some fingers through his soft dark hair, the same way he had in jail only this time the motion was meaningful. Eiji flinched slightly, but he didn’t protest or move away. His breathing quickened, and he maintained eye contact with a wide-eyed innocence. Ash swallowed nervously; this would be a huge risk he was taking. This wasn’t like that time in jail, all false confidence and desperation, Eiji practically frozen in confused fear when he’d become handsy and rough – this was the real deal. This could end everything, or else strengthen their bond further… he leaned in, half expecting Eiji to either pull away, push him, or to laugh at him and play it off as a joke.

He didn’t.

He closed his eyes instead.

Their lips met and it was as if time suddenly stood still.

People always say you experience fireworks at moments like this. Ash had never understood that metaphor before, but it all made sense now. It was like happy bursts of light were exploding in his mind, all negative thoughts blown away temporarily in the moment. There was only the two of them in their own little world.

Eiji was soft and delicate, obviously inexperienced but willing to learn. It didn’t matter to Ash; he could be the worst kisser in the world and it wouldn’t matter at that moment. Ash could taste the sweet remnants of the wagashi on his lips, the sugary flavour oddly suitable for him. After initially stiffening up, Eiji gradually relaxed, both his hands gently resting on Ash’s chest as he allowed Ash to take the lead. Ash placed his left hand on Eiji’s waist, his right remaining tenderly towards the back of his neck, holding him close but not smothering him. He was always warm, a comforting heat that Ash could feel permeating into him, filling him with a feeling of deep serenity and fondness. He probed gingerly with a shy but curious tongue, and with a quiet gasp Eiji allowed him entrance into his mouth.

Ash wasn’t sure how long the kiss went on for. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been several millennia. When they gently pulled apart, Eiji was flushed and looked cuter than ever, his eyes glazed over with a hazy expression. 

“I… I’m sorry…” Ash apologised, looking nervous. He removed his hands from Eiji and took one step backwards away from him.

<”What for?”> Eiji replied dreamily. He smiled. <”You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”>

They stared at each other for a few moments, each happier than they had ever been, wondering what they had done to deserve such an emotion. How was it that a lynx and a rabbit could be so compatible?

<”C’mon… we should be getting back.”> Eiji said quietly. <”They’ll start extinguishing the lights soon, and we still have to walk back…”>

“Okay…”

They walked joyfully back through the sea of lanterns and along the waterfront. Ash felt something lightly tickling his hand; Eiji was adorably trying to grab hold of it without it being too noticeable. With it being dark out, they could get away with doing certain things they would not be able to in the day. The next time he felt the gentle brush of warm skin against his palm, he grabbed hold, interlocking his own long fingers together with Eiji’s. Eiji hummed contentedly at the gesture, his smile broadening, and they walked hand in hand through the streets of light.

*

After an evening of celebration with the Okumura’s extended family, Kaori had opted to stay over at her aunts with her cousin and would return in the morning. There wasn’t space for all of them however, so Eiji’s mum had driven them and Ibe home. Apparently, they were not the only ones who were tired, because Ibe fell asleep in the car. Eiji woke him up when they got back, by which time it was the early hours of the morning. Eiji never even bothered setting up the futon when they retreated to his room. Both boys were exhausted, and both collapsed into the bed without questioning anything. They didn’t talk about anything deep and meaningful, neither did they tease each other; they merely snuggled up close together and quickly drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.


	27. It's Such A Little Thing To Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji opens up about some of his feelings for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

They had a couple of recovery days after the festival. They spent most of the time just enjoying each other’s company, catching up on things that had happened over the last year. Eiji had thoroughly grilled him on everything, asking for all the tiny details; how was the gang faring without him being in charge (Alex is doing very well and they’ll be happy you asked about them), where does Max live now (Long Island, in Queens, nice little estate, very quiet by New York standards… shit, I need to give you the address!), who taught him Japanese so badly (Shut up! Mai is fabulous and the fact I can even speak this well in a few months is a miracle! Why does a language need three fucking alphabets anyway?), does he still spend all day in the library like a nerd (What do you mean ‘nerd’? Damn jock… read a book instead of a comic for once!). His questioning seemed to be never-ending, his curiosity insatiable.

“Jeez, Eiji, I’m glad you’re not a cop! All these fucking questions!”

“Maybe you confess, I no have to ask any more,” he’d replied, a sly smirk quirking the corner of his mouth endearingly.

To pass time, Eiji had taken him to a couple of historical museums in Izumo, but neither of them showed much interest in the exhibits on offer. He’d also taken him around a beautiful garden in Matsue, located on an island in the middle of Lake Nakaumi. With autumn knocking on the door, the deciduous foliage was just beginning to turn shades of gold and red, and the garden staff were starting to set up the traditional straw matting pyramids on the most sensitive plants to keep the snow and frost off. It had taken the better part of an afternoon to walk around, following the waterway paths through floating seas of waterlilies, leaning on the red-painted wood of the traditional arced bridges to watch the lazy flow of water below. Eiji told him he needed to visit in spring when the garden was filled with a colourful explosion of peonies, azaleas and irises.

<”It is like a carpet of flowers,”> he had described it. <”They harvest peony flowerheads and float them on the water too.”>

“I will never understand the Japanese obsession with plants and gardening,” Ash replied. “But they sure are pretty.”

They watched a few things on TV when they had the house to themselves, sat on the floor cushions and leaning against each other, sharing a bowl of snacks and laughing at the absurd adverts between the programmes. Kaori would join them after school, shouting answers enthusiastically at the screen during a quiz show they watched, getting about half the answers wrong but at least not having to undergo punishment games like the poor contestants had. Ash, meanwhile, had gotten most of the questions right, correcting her calmly in that know-it-all way he had. Kaori had huffed and turned the channel over while Eiji laughed.

<”Don’t patronise me when you can’t even speak Japanese properly!”> she’d said, pouting.

At night, they lay next to each other in the bed talking, mostly about whether they had enjoyed what they had done that day, maybe giggling at or discussing something interesting from one of the TV shows that had been on. On one of the nights, after they’d watched some old samurai film about a Ronin and his son crossing the mountains on an epic adventure, Eiji had unloaded some of his feelings about the death of his father onto him.

<”I miss my Dad,”> he had said. <”He was a great man. Very kind, always had time for Kaori and me. He was super supportive of my athletic career. He used to come to all my meets, but he fell sick in my first year of high school.”>

“That sucks.”

<”I was confused and scared when he first went to hospital. The doctors here never tell you much about what’s happening, but from the way they were acting you knew the news wasn’t good. There was nothing I could do to help him, and then he ended up in there permanently… it hurt seeing him hooked up to all those machines. He had several surgeries over four years, and every time I went to visit him, he looked weaker... like the life was being sucked out of him.”>

“I felt the same way with Griff, y’know? Just… helpless. You could see he was in pain, and I wanted to do something, but there is nothing you can do. Just be there. Although with Griff I don’t know if he even realised I was there with him or not, he was that far gone.”

<”Initially, while I really wanted to, I was reluctant to go to New York with Ibe-san because of my Dad. I was at a very low point in my life and I didn’t want to leave him, but he insisted I go. He convinced Mum to let me come, and basically told me if I didn’t go I’d regret it forever. He said I shouldn’t stop living my life for him, but I knew he didn’t have long left. I wanted to try new things, and America seemed so different. I was interested in what Ibe-san was doing and keen to learn. Once Dad gave me his blessing, I was excited to leave. I felt guilty for abandoning him, like he was just another problem I was running away from, but… then I met you, and I realised several things about myself and what I was doing with my life, and knew then that he was right. I would have regretted not going.”>

Ash couldn’t really say anything to that. Any words would be moot and pointless.

<”When I finally came home, he had worsened considerably. He could no longer stand and walk for himself, and spent all day in bed, most of it asleep and on several drugs. I wasn’t in a much better state, but where I got better and improved every day, he got worse and worse. I thought I’d feel awful when he died, but when he finally passed away I felt… relieved? Then I felt guilty that I was almost happy about him dying. You shouldn’t feel glad that someone died. You should be upset. But I just… I wasn’t.”>

“You know, the only reason I was really upset about Griff dying was because someone shot him,” Ash whispered. “I mean, I was sad, yeah. Also angry beyond belief. But inside, a large part of me was grateful that he was finally gone. He hadn’t been my brother for many years. His life was miserable. He had fits several times a day, screaming and crying. He couldn’t even wipe his ass or chew his own food. When he died… that relief you said you felt… I get it. They’re out of pain and you don’t have to watch them suffer any more.”

<”It seemed everyone was upset about it but me.”>

“Eiji, you are clearly very upset about it.”

<”Kaori called me heartless once, because I didn’t cry over him.”>

“She was just venting because death affects people differently,” Ash said. “There is a huge difference between when someone who has been in pain for a long time, who you know is going to go at any moment, passes away, and the sudden loss of someone you are close to. Both are tragic, but shock plays a huge factor in how you deal with things. You are not heartless at all, Eiji. I have seen you cry ugly tears over people you barely know. What you were was mentally prepared for it. Emotions hit differently when you’re ready for them, but you still feel them.”

<”You cried over your brother…”>

“Yeah, well…”

<”I still don’t really know how I feel. I’m sad, but… it’s complicated. I feel… sort of numb, I guess.”>

“Emotions are weird things.”

<”He would have liked you…”> Eiji murmured sadly.

“And I would have probably liked him too,” Ash replied. “He raised you, after all! I bet he was a real nice guy.”

Eiji sobbed suddenly, his grip on Ash tightening as emotions unknowingly kept behind a wall overflowed. He’d been forced to be strong about his father for years now. He’d thrown himself into his athletic career to both make some extra money for the household and to keep himself distracted, knowing his father was proud of him for competing, fuelling his ambition with his anxiety, frustrated when he reached an apex that just wasn’t quite high enough. Failure had kicked him hard, stripping him of any self-confidence, but he had to keep going. He’d been the man of the house in his father’s absence, and as the oldest sibling he had picked up the slack around the home while his mother worked to support them. He had witnessed his mother stray and had questioned his parent’s love for each other, had then disappeared for over a year when his sick father may have needed his son the most, and then he had organised the funeral, all without shedding a tear and all while wondering if the blonde asshole he had met in America, had for a while all but abandoned his family to be with and to help, even thought about him at all seeing as he had not once contacted him. He couldn’t afford to break down in front of his family. A ‘stiff upper lip’ the Brits would call it. They had needed him to be strong and reliable, stoic and infallible, even if that meant he came across as unfeeling and heartless, hiding behind false smiles. He may have questioned if that was really the case, that he had left his empathy behind in America. Tonight proved the opposite. 

“Alright… you’re ok… c’mere…” It was a rare occurrence, but Ash felt privileged that for once it was him comforting Eiji during a moment of weakness and not the other way around. He held him gently, running one of his hands soothingly up and down his back from shoulder to waist like Griff used to do for him when he cried as a kid, letting him quietly weep out his sadness and frustration.

<”Why now?”> he asked, confused as well as emotional. <”Why cry now?”>

“Because life doesn’t always make sense,” Ash told him. “Your body and mind are telling you it’s OK to cry now. It always was, but… you ever heard of a delayed reaction?”

<”It’s not fair… why did he have to suffer like that? Why my Dad?”> he pouted, sounding childish, but Ash agreed. It wasn’t fair. Life never is; he knew that better than anyone.

They cuddled close together, drifting off to sleep nestled next to each other like they belonged there, fitting together snugly like two jigsaw pieces. Eiji relaxed completely while being held in his sleep, curling up neat and small, using Ash’s chest and shoulder as a pillow. Even better, since they had started sleeping this way, Ash had experienced no more night terrors; he enjoyed the best nights of sleep he had had in years, his dreams pleasant and happy for once.


	28. Only A Shrine, But Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his last day in Izumo, Eiji takes Ash to the famous Izumo Taisha shrine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

For his last day in Japan, Eiji decided to show him the Izumo Taisha shrine, it being the most famous and important site in Izumo and possibly one of the most important holy sites in Japan. Ibe said he would come with them too. For most of the duration of his stay he had been out and about doing his own thing, giving Ash and Eiji their space. He had driven in his hire car to other parts of Shimane to take photos and explore regions he had never had chance to before. He would bring them omiyage every day from the places he visited; local or branded foods that they would share out amongst themselves after the evening meal.

“You do not come to Izumo and not see the Izumo Taisha,” the photographer told Ash, Eiji nodding enthusiastically next to him over breakfast.

<”It is the most famous shrine in all of Japan for a reason,”> Eiji said. <”For one thing, it is one of our oldest Shinto sites. It is also a shrine to Ōkuninushi, the god who created the nation of Japan. He is also the god of happiness and good relationships. Plus, it is an important place during Kamiari, and the Kannushi perform a lot of the ceremonies related to it there.”>

“Oh, that was that festival where all the Gods come to Izumo, right?”

“You have good memory,” Eiji said. “You know how to pray at Shinto shrine?”

“Ibe showed me in Tokyo.”

“You must re-learn for Izumo Taisha. It different,” Eiji smiled. “I show you later!”

The easiest way to reach the shrine was using the local trains. One thing Ash had noticed about Japan was the number of railway stations everywhere. It really was similar to the New York subway, stations every mile or so through the cities for the local branch lines to operate on, although compared to Tokyo the two branch lines skirting the north and south edges of Izumo were relatively spartan. Ignoring the local lines that served Manhattan where he used to frequently fare-dodge, jumping the barriers and riding the trains as the fastest and illegally the cheapest route across the city, he had been on more trains in the last week than he had in his entire life. An added bonus of using the local trains were that they terminated at Izumo Taisha Station, a truly beautiful building built in the Imperial Crown style, with exposed dark wooden beams and traditionally curved tiled rooftops, a stark contract to the European-style Tokyo station.

“They want to close this station,” Ibe said, looking sad. “It a beautiful place, but JR branch line is not busy enough to warrant service any more. Only station for shrine will then be Izumo Taisha Mae. It nowhere near as nice.”

The initial entrance to the shrine was located right outside the station, a towering wooden torii gate marking the approach to the main buildings. The wide pathway was flanked by restaurants and souvenir shops, the smell of food already rich in the air.

<”Oh – they have a really good soba shop here!”> Eiji said excitedly. <”You absolutely have to eat a bowl of Izumo soba before you leave!”>

<”That is lunch sorted then,”> Ash replied.

Yet another torii marked entrance to a green area, the path now threading through rows of pine trees dividing it into three. Eiji pulled Ash gently out of the central lane before he made a minor faux pas.

“Only Gods walk in middle,” Eiji scolded him lightly.

“Like the torii?”

“Someone taught you well!”

Ibe smirked, proud his whirlwind lessons on Shinto etiquette had stuck. Ash had a mind like a sponge in which information got soaked up indefinitely. Ibe found himself thinking that Ash would be a useful addition to any quiz team. He remembered exactly how to purify his hands and mouth at the Temizura font without needing any prompting, even remembering to allow the excess water to drip back down the handle of the wooden scoop to cleanse it. Eiji was mildly impressed.

<”Ibe-san, you are a good teacher!”> he had said.

“Hey, do I get no credit for remembering?” Ash snarked.

“You nerd. No wonder you remember,” Eiji responded teasingly.

The entrance to the main shrine complex was marked with a bronze torii, not quite as large as the one by the station, but shiny and expensive looking, areas from waist-to-shoulder height rubbed smooth by thousands of visitors trailing a hand over it as they walked by. Directly in front of the torii was a beautiful old wooden structure, a collection box in front of it and a twisted straw rope decorating the eaves.

<”That is the worship hall or ‘Haiden’, which is where people come and pray to Ōkuninushi.”>

“What’s with the rabbits?”

There were several rabbit statues peppered around the grounds, most of them modern, almost jarring in their stark contrast to the otherwise ancient architecture of the shrine.

<”White hares of Inaba,”> Eiji said.

“Oh! That’s the hare you told me about before when we went to the beach back at the Cape, yeah? The one that tricked the sharks and had all its fur ripped off?” Eiji had told the story of the legendary hare and its misfortune on Inasa beach, who was later saved by a local deity who told it to roll in cattails to restore its fur, when they had explored one of the beaches local to his hometown.

<”So you listened to me when I told you inconsequential Japanese legends, but when I ask you to stop fighting it falls on deaf ears?”> Eiji frowned at him.

<”Selective hearing,”> Ash muttered.

<”Very selective.”>

“Anyway, you said praying here was different, yeah?” Ash said, changing the subject. “Most places you clap twice and bow.”

<”It is pretty much the same, but you have to clap four times,”> Eiji explained. <”This is a shrine to the God of good relationships, so you must clap for yourself and for your present or future partner. If you don’t, it might blight your relationship. Lots of girls come here to pray, for obvious reasons.”>

“Do you pray here often?”

<”Sometimes…”> he admitted. <”This was the first place I came when I had recovered enough. I wanted to pray for… well…”> He left the sentence open-ended, but Ash guessed he had been praying for him.

They both deposited their 5-yen coins, bowed to the God for his divine attention, clapped four times and prayed for good fortune and blessings, before bowing again to thank the God for listening. 

They spent some time walking the shrine grounds, Eiji explaining more local legends on the way. He pointed out the main hall, a dominatingly tall structure for a shrine building surrounded by an outer fence to keep regular visitors out. This was where Ōkuninushi himself was said to reside. Either side of the fenced area were two long wooden structures called the ‘Jukusha’. These were where the Gods would lodge during Kamiari. A treasure hall housed the artwork and reams of holy scripture gifted to the shrine over centuries, and a museum building told the tales of ancient Izumo in further details, although Ash found Eiji was doing a pretty adequate job himself without needing to visit a museum. He was pretty knowledgeable about the history of his hometown, and opted to leave out all the boring bits.

Beside one of the Jukusha was the sacred dance hall or ‘Kaguraden’. The entrance was strung with another huge twisted straw rope, surrounded by narrower braids holding it onto the structure, three fat tassels of neatly trimmed straw hanging down from the central twists next to large paper seals.

<”That is the ‘Shimenawa’,”> Eiji told him, pointing at the entwined ropes. <”It represents both the separation and link between our world and the realm of the gods and supernatural. This is the largest Shimenawa in Japan. It weighs 5 tons and is 13 metres long.”>

“Wow,” Ash said in awe. “And it’s stuck up there with just a few braided bits of dry grass? That is some strong-ass rope!”

Like most shrines in Japan, there was a small stall manned by a couple of Kannushi or Miko, selling lucky talismans, ema boards, and fortunes. Both of them brought ema boards, the wood cut into the shape of a heart. Ash felt it was a little cheesy, but most shrines had an overarching theme and the ema boards tended to reflect that. While Ash was writing his wishes for the future onto the wood with a marker pen, Eiji excused himself briefly. He returned a couple of minutes later, wearing a slight smile. Ash passed him the marker pen so he could write his desires on his own ema board, then together they went and tied them with the hundreds of others hung up on a specialised rack. They would eventually be burnt in a ceremony, sending their wishes to the Gods to be, hopefully, fulfilled.

<”What did you wish for?”> Eiji asked him.

“Good health and fortune, happiness, usual stuff,” Ash shrugged. “I hope they can read English. You?”

<”That you would remain safe in America until we can be together again.”>

“Damn, that makes my wish seem lame! I wasted it – I could have used it for your college success!”

<”This isn’t really a shrine for educational matters though,”> Eiji said, smiling. <”Good health and fortune is necessary for a happy relationship, and hopefully the Gods will grant it to us both. It’s a good wish!”>

“Do you think the Japanese Gods even agree with… you know…” Ash pointed a finger back and forth between himself and Eiji, the universal hand signal for ‘you and me’, silently asking if any of the 8 million Shinto deities were cool with queers.

<”It’s not encouraged, but neither is it seen as unclean or sinful in the eyes of the Gods,”> Eiji explained. <”They’re pretty indifferent. It’s only really been in recent history that Japan became homophobic. There were plenty of gay and bi samurai. Also, for Japanese Buddhist priests who take vows of celibacy, heterosexual sex was actually seen as worse than homosexual, especially in the past. Lay with a woman and she will defile you, but lay with a man and it’s just a lapse of judgement punishable by a slap on the wrist. Some even used it to try and reach enlightenment!”>

”No wonder this is a country of perverts…” Ash muttered.

<“Perverts for treating love as love and not something evil?”>

“You got me there.”

They found Ibe nearby with a tripod set up, taking photos of the grounds and buildings. He had burned his way through five reels of film already at the shrine alone, in his element as he snapped photos of the buildings and people who came to pray.

“You are one prolific shutterbug,” Ash told him.

<”We are going to get some soba,”> Eiji added. <”Would you like to join us, or are you going to stay here and take more photographs?”>

<”I’ll come, Ei-chan,”> Ibe replied, folding up the tripod and resting it over his shoulder. <”It has been a long while since breakfast. I’m a little hungry!”>

Eiji took them back to the row of shops by the shrine entrance. His favourite soba place was a family-run establishment, one of many situated on the wide pathway leading up to the shrine gates. The outside was typically Japanese, wooden-fronted with sliding shoji doors, shoes off at the entrance (Ibe left his tripod in the umbrella stand, but for security reasons he removed the expensive camera first) before a friendly teenage girl in an apron smeared with flour directed them to a low table situated over a pit for their legs to go. The menu included, as many places in Japan did, a lunch special set meal which Eiji highly recommended. It came with a large bowl of Kamaage soba, a drink of their choice, and a small serving of zenzai for dessert.

<”Typical Yankee, ordering cola…”> Eiji teased Ash when he picked Diet Coke for his drink.

“That is because I have no clue what ‘Calpis’ is!” he shot back.

“Fizzy sour milk,” Ibe explained.

“Ew…” Ash grimaced. “Sounds… lovely.”

The dark buckwheat noodles came packed into red ceramic bowls, not nearly as wet with broth as ramen typically is, and topped with grated yam, grated daikon with chilli pepper, thinly chopped green onion, and a raw egg. It took a little bit of persuasion on both Eiji and Ibe’s part that eating raw egg was perfectly safe to do in Japan, as Ash immediately argued it might give him salmonella poisoning and was reluctant to even try it. Ibe explained that the standard of cleanliness in chicken farms in Japan was very strict, and Eiji said he’d been eating raw eggs for years, them being a good source of protein for an athlete, and had never once got sick. He even admitted to eating a couple raw in America when alone in the apartment and felt an overwhelming need for comfort food, so would make himself some ‘tamago kake gohan’, or raw egg over hot rice, which reminded him of home. He had been perfectly fine, although he knew he had been taking a risk. Ash eventually caved to their arguments and stirred it into the noodles so he at least didn’t have to look at a raw egg yolk screaming ‘danger’ at him while he ate.

He was expecting the egg to make everything slimy and gross, but it didn’t. Stirring it into the hot broth partially cooked it, and it just added to the slightly sweet, rich taste, coating every noodle with an eggy layer. It was far nicer than he expected it to be, and he ate the whole thing quickly, remembering to slurp to show appreciation, but he admitted that he preferred the local seafood just because it was so fresh and varied. The raw egg had failed to win him over. The zenzai, however, which was a small portion of boiled sweet azuki bean soup topped with a round, chewy mochi cake, he really liked.

Inasa-no-hama beach was a twenty-minute walk from the shrine. This was the famous beach where the Kamiari celebrations start, priests burning bonfires on the wide expanses of sand to welcome their otherworldly visitors for the annual gathering. It was also the beach where the legendary hare had bounded ashore, hairless and sore following the shark attack, seeking help from strangers. For all intents and purposes, it was just a beach – a nice beach, granted, but not so different from any other sandy shoreline found elsewhere around the globe. There were not too many people on it at this time of day; a dogwalker trailed behind an excitable shiba inu down by the surf, and a jogger bounded past, his mind in the zone, but apart from the two of them and Ibe with his camera already set up on the tripod, the place was empty. However, its cultural significance still made it special. A weathered shrine could be seen, perched high on top of a colossal rock right in the middle of the sand.

<”That is Benten-jima,”> Eiji said, pointing it out as they walked together along the beach. <”A sea deity lives there. She watches over the seafarers in the Sea of Japan, and is the first to welcome the Gods when they visit Izumo.”>

“There are Gods living everywhere in Japan,” Ash said. “If I was religious, it would make me kind of nervous!”

<”Most Japanese these days are agnostic,”> Eiji reasoned. <”Religion is cultural and celebratory with morals to follow for a good life rather than absolute truth and law. We try and live in harmony with nature and each other, we pray at the shrines for luck and fortune and are open to the concept of Gods, but if asked most of us are not really religious at all. Many people follow both Shinto and Buddhism too. There’s no rivalry or clear-cut divide between the religions.”>

“The rest of the world may be able to learn a thing or two from that.”

<”That’s not to say our beliefs and actions are the right ones either though,”> Eiji said wisely. <”To others, I am a heathen. Who knows what is right or wrong? I just follow what I feel is right for me.”>

“I was raised Catholic, but I stopped believing in a benevolent God years ago,” Ash said bitterly. “If there really is a God and he has a plan for us all, then he is a sadistic bitch!”

<”You would call the Christian God a bitch?”> Eiji tittered. <”Would that not send you straight to hell?”>

“Oh heavenly Father, forgive this lowly wretch for I have sinned and called thy holy self a bitch!” Ash said dramatically, raising his hands to the sky. “I think, according to Christian ideologies, I’ve already got a certified one-way ticket down south anyway. Calling the man upstairs a bitch isn’t going to make much difference. I just choose to live my life now in a way that makes me and the people I care about happy.”

“That is best way to be, I think,” Eiji sighed.

"I can always go to confession if I want a clean slate, but I'd be there a while and it wouldn't make me feel any better afterwards."

"I think you would scare the priest," Eiji joked. 

They walked further along the beach, following the curve of the bay parallel to the sea, when Eiji suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” Ash asked him.

“You leave tomorrow,” he replied sadly. “I was just trying to think of best time.”

“Best time?”

“I have present for you. It not much, but…” Eiji reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a brown paper bag, the opening folded neatly around something small and flat inside. He handed it over in both his hands respectfully. “Here.”

Ash took it from him, frowning slightly. He opened the bag and reached inside, pulling out an embroidered silk rectangle with a thin piece of wood inside, an intricate knot holding the elaborate little fabric pocket closed. He had seen one of these before; Eiji had one in New York that his sister had given him for luck before he left home, and he would sometimes fiddle with it when he was nervous or thoughtful. It was an Omamori, a talisman sold at shrines and temples containing a prayer for the recipient. This one was bright red in colour, and decorated with a golden rabbit and a couple of kanji.

“I have one myself too, so we match,” Eiji explained, holding up an identical Omamori. “They are relationship charms from Izumo Taisha shrine. They supposed to bring good harmony to the holders. If you carry it with you in America, it will bring you protection and remind you that I am with you.”

“That’s… honestly, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever brought for me,” Ash said quietly, holding the cute little talisman tightly in his fist. Considering Dino had showered him with expensive and beautiful gifts, the fact that a tiny, cheap talisman could top all the fancy clothes, expensive jewellery, and an entire Rolls Royce… thoughtfulness won every time. He could feel several complicated emotions swirling inside him, most of them pleasant but some of them dark and invasive. _‘You don’t deserve him. He’s too good for you. You’ll only ruin him like you ruin everything…’_ The cruel sting of oncoming tears assaulted his eyes, and he blinked hard trying to keep them at bay. His reaction, as much as he tried to hide it, didn’t escape Eiji’s perceptive empathy. He had an innate knack for knowing exactly when Ash needed a little bit of emotional support. He stepped forward, his arms outstretched, and silently embraced him. Ash responded, leaning into him and resting his chin on his shoulder. “Thank you…” he whispered.

<”You’re welcome.”>


	29. Parting With Thee Reluctantly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash has to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Anything written <"Like this"> indicates the character is speaking (or attempting to speak) in Japanese.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Tomorrow came all too soon for both of them. The previous evening, Okumura-san had cooked them a special leaving meal. Knowing Ash liked seafood, she had provided several simple grilled fish dishes. She had even sourced an avocado from somewhere, Eiji having informed her of Ash’s favourite food, and she’d made a shrimp and avocado salad to go with the more local fare on offer. They had all sat around the table in the living room eating, chatting, and drinking together. Everyone turned a blind eye to the fact that Ash was underage, but Okumura-san forbid Kaori from having any alcohol seeing as it was a school night. She went to bed early, but not before saying an official goodbye to them.

<”I’ll be at school tomorrow, so I won’t be able to see you off. I’ll say goodbye and safe travels to you now,”> she told them both. <”Ibe-san… you have become part of the furniture, and I’m half expecting to find you here again in less than a month.”>

<”I want to come for Kamiari,”> he admitted. <”So I’m hoping Okumura-san will let me stay again in a few weeks…”>

<”See! We can’t get rid of you!”>

<”I am grateful for your family’s kindness in letting me stay.”>

<”Stop bowing, Ibe-san!”> Kaori frowned. <”Friends don’t bow! I like it when you visit. You’re like a weird uncle with a fancy hobby that’s also his job.”>

<”You know you’re welcome at any time, Shunichi,”> Okumura-san said flirtatiously.

<”Aaah… thank you.”>

<”And you,”> Kaori turned to Ash, focusing on him with a strange intensity, like a dog does a forbidden ham sandwich. <”It was good to finally meet you. You’re completely different to how I imagined you, but I can see why Ei-nii likes you. It’s been fun spending time with you, even if most of your time has been taken up by my sappy brother...”> She hesitated slightly, glancing at Eiji as if seeking approval, before she leaned over and grasped Ash in a friendly hug around his shoulders. Unlike hugs with men, Ash didn’t have the same raw, fearful reaction when the hugger was female. Women had paid for his services in the club before, and he was just as seductive towards the opposite sex, but they were usually less possessive and rough, asking him to give to them rather than forcing him to receive, so they didn't produce the same feelings of panic and claustrophobia in him when they got close. He had still stiffened uncomfortably from the unexpected side-on embrace though, making an involuntary sound of surprise when she latched on. She whispered something in his ear before releasing him. <”Thank you for all you’ve done. Come back soon, OK! Ei-nii needs you!”> She then bid everyone goodnight before leaving the room.

”You and your sister are definitely related,” Ash told Eiji.

<”She is a weirdo, is what she is…”> Eiji muttered.

They spent their final night together snuggled up in the bed, limbs entwined like rope vines around a tree bough. Neither of them slept much, and they said nothing, merely lying in the quiet darkness memorising this feeling of completeness and closeness, listening to each other’s hearts beating in a calm and steady rhythm, reassuring themselves with the gentle sound of the other’s breathing. They were here, they were alive, and despite all the odds they were together.

*

Eiji accompanied Ibe and Ash as they drove Ibe’s hire car back to Izumoshi. He said he would make his own way back, either by train or just take his time walking home – he just needed to be there when they left. Ibe dropped the hire car back at the dealership and they despondently mooched into the station. Ibe already had tickets, and the station barriers were open, so they made their way directly to the platform.

<“It was a pleasure staying over again, Ei-chan,”> Ibe said, smiling. <“I always take the best photos when I come to Shimane.”>

<”You know you’re welcome any time, Ibe-san,”> Eiji told him. <”Our door is always open to you.”>

The older man looked back and forth between Ash and Eiji before, with a throat clearing cough, he said, “I think I need drink from vending machine. I will just… leave you two alone for a bit.”

The two boys watched him awkwardly leave them, carrying both his and Ash’s suitcase with him as he waddled over to the vending machine.

<”Ibe-san never fails to amaze me,”> Eiji commented fondly.

“Damn old fart left us alone to make it less awkward, and yet somehow he has successfully made it more so,” Ash said sarcastically. Eiji snorted, trying not to laugh but, inside, agreeing wholeheartedly with what Ash had said.

They were silent for a while, trying to figure out the best way to say goodbye. Ash in particular was fidgeting a lot, his fingers playing nervously with something in his pocket. Eventually, with a deep breath to steel himself, he pulled the item from his pocket and turned to Eiji, his cheeks glowing a pale shade of rose. He found eye contact difficult, so he stared at the floor instead.

“Aaaah… Before I go back to America, I need to give you this,” Ash handed him the envelope he had just pulled out, thrusting it at him as if he would chicken out of handing it over otherwise. “I figured it was about time I replied.”

<”You idiot…”> Eiji muttered, taking the envelope.

<”Please read.”> Ash urged him. <”I learn new language just to say you this.”>

<”Fine…”> Eiji opened the envelope, pulled out a single notecard inside, and read the hand-scrawled hiragana spelling out a single word: _Aishiteru._

Eiji stared at it, feeling his eyes burn hot as they took in the swooping loops of the kana. He emitted a soft, whimper-like sob.

<”I will say sayonara Izumo. Sayonara Japan. But not sayonara Eiji. For my soul always with you,”> Ash told him, echoing his own words but spoken in a different language. Eiji practically collapsed forward and hugged him a final time, holding him so tight it was hard to breathe, hiding his face from view in his chest so he couldn’t see him crying. ”Only it’s not sayonara Japan at all, because I promise I’ll be back soon! I’ll miss you.”

”Write this time…” Eiji demanded, sobbing. “Promise you write!”

“I will,” Ash said. ”And I’ll stay out of trouble so I can come and visit again, as often as I can! Promise!”

“You better… this time will not forgive you if you do not!” Eiji said, stepping back. <”When I get visa again, after college, I’m coming back… this time to stay! I want to get green card and be photographer in America.”>

“Heh, we could work together – I’ll write the articles, you take the photos!”

<”I would like that.”>

<”It is a promise then,”> Ash held up his hand, pinkie finger sticking up. “Mai told me that pinkie swears are just as sacred here as back in the States!” Eiji linked his finger with Ash’s, giggling.

“Yeah. It sacred vow – must never break!” He bounced their entwined hands twice while reciting the Japanese yubikiri vow. <” _Pinky finger swear, whoever lies must swallow a thousand needles…” >_

“Fuck me, that’s hardcore!” Ash said. “All we do in America is threaten to cut off the pinky!”

“We take yubikiri serious in Japan,” Eiji said, releasing their hands and patting his eyes dry with the cuff of his shirt. He glanced up at the departure board, seeing they had barely a minute left. The train was already pulling into the station and wouldn’t wait for them. “Now go – or you will miss your train!”

Ash glanced at it over his shoulder. “Dammit, already?” He turned back to Eiji, placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “I’ll miss you…” he whispered. He glanced left and right, checking if any judging eyes were upon them, before leaning in and giving him a brief but passionate kiss, Eiji reciprocating. He reluctantly disengaged, not wanting to leave, torn between staying and his duties back home…

“Go!” Eiji urged him, pushing him lightly away. He turned and sprinted towards where Ibe stood, holding a door open for him, horribly reminded of the last time he’d been forced to leave Eiji behind. Both of them were crying just like they had been that time too. This time at least they were parting on more positive terms and had already started making arrangements for Ash coming back in a couple of months. Ash had given Eiji a copy of Max’s home address too; Eiji threatened to bombard him with angry letters if he became too lax in replying. He leapt into the door, glancing back briefly at Eiji waving him off from the end of the platform, before the doors closed with a gentle puff of hydraulics and the train started to roll out of the station.

“It’s always so hard to leave him…” Ash said to nobody in particular, a hand on the glass window in the door. He sniffed loudly, trying to keep the wavering tone out of his voice.

“You will be back again soon though,” Ibe reminded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”


	30. Ended, Ere It Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so British English has been used for spelling and grammar.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Three weeks after he returned to New York, a small package arrived for him from Japan. The customs slip stuck to the jiffy bag read ‘Sendai’ with the contents labelled as ‘photografs’ (spelled incorrectly), so it clearly was not from Eiji. He opened the packet in his room and tipped out several glossy prints onto his bed. A letter from Ibe was included.

_‘Ash,_

_Thought you may like these photos from your first trip to Japan! I hope you had a good time – from what I saw you enjoyed yourself, and Ei-chan certainly did! I look forward to welcoming you back here again soon._

_Ibe’_

There were two-dozen or so photographs of himself and Eiji. Ibe was a master of candid photography; Ash barely even noticed him taking photos any more, and he usually had a camera around his neck as a permanent accessory. He couldn’t remember any of the Tokyo photos Ibe had snapped of him. There was one of him walking ahead of Ibe in Hamarikyu gardens with his hands in his coat pockets, a profile shot of him in front of the twin bridges at the Imperial palace, wind whipping playfully at his hair, one of him in Asakusa under the giant lantern at the entrance, looking up at it in interest (there were dragons carved on the bottom he had been admiring), and one of him leaning on the railings of the ferry through Tokyo. In Izumo, he had taken one of him sat on the cliffs by the lighthouse looking out at the gulls on the islands, another of him waiting on the stairs at Hinomisaki shrine. The rest were of him and Eiji together; one of them walking around Lake Shinji, Eiji pointing something out on the water and Ash paying attention to it (Ash thought it may have been a duck, but he couldn’t remember – Eiji had pointed out many things that day), one of the few non-candid photos was of him with Eiji and Kaori all in their matching happi-coats, one of them both beating a drum at the festival, one at the shrine of them tying ema boards to a stand, and one of them walking on Inasa beach together, and another on the beach of Eiji gifting him the lucky charm. He’d also sent a few of his better shots of scenery; some of Tokyo landmarks, one of the lighthouse, arty photos of various unique parts of Izumo-Tensha, a few panoramic views of Inasa beach and several shots of the drum and lantern festival. The last photo surprised him, however. It was a night-time shot, the foreground illuminated by a dozen or so lanterns on the steps, the main focus of the photo framed by two Inari foxes holding ball-shaped Chinese lanterns. 

He and Eiji, kissing in the lanternlight.

When the _fuck_ had the photographer taken that one? He had been sure they were alone that time, nobody watching. He hadn’t sensed anyone, could have sworn it was just the two of them. His wildcat street instincts were on the fritz, obviously, or else the photographer had access to a long-lens…

He was slightly embarrassed, but he wasn’t complaining. For one thing, Ibe, like Max, seemed to have accepted their relationship without any qualms, which was mildly surprising but very much welcomed. For another, while Eiji may think differently, what with it being his first kiss ever, Ash never considered what he did in jail to be an official thing. That forced kiss had been a necessity that he would always feel guilty about. The night of the lantern festival, between the foxes… that had been his first real kiss with Eiji, and now he had an unexpected but beautiful photo commemorating the moment.

He made a mental note that he needed to thank Ibe, and also ask him if he sent a copy of the photo to Eiji too. Just imagining his face turning an ever deeper shade of cherry-red when he saw this made Ash smile.

He pinned most of the photos to the latest acquisition to his room: a massive noticeboard he had hung above his desk. He decided to copy Eiji’s idea of filling it with happy memories. That way, he could look at them fondly while he worked. He didn’t pin the kiss photo up, however; that photo had instantly become one of his most prized possessions. He stored it in a drawer together with a photo of himself and Griffin when he was a kid, and one of Shorter that Eiji had gifted him off his own photoboard before he left, important memories of people he cared about too much to share with others.

With a sigh, he returned to work. If he was going to return to Japan soon, he was going to need to put the hours in, but in the back of his mind he was already composing his third letter to Eiji since he had returned.

He had said to write, so write Ash did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you for reading! It means a lot to me that you would even consider browsing my fic, never mind completing it :)
> 
> This is the first novel-length fic I have finished in over 10 years!!! I'm very good at starting them, just... not great at finishing them. It's been quite a journey!
> 
> This was my attempt at a happier ending for both boys. I hit a few tropes along the way (festivals, baths etc.) but I tried to approach them at a new angle and keep the characters as in-character as possible. I think that without Dino around and without a gang to run, Ash would calm down considerably too. There is a lot of evidence in the manga and anime of his personality softening when he's with Eiji. I feel he is a very introverted, anxious person, who took on a persona to survive. I did a lot of research too, to try and keep this as accurate as possible (what was around in the 80s, for instance, and I used actual places and events in Izumo/Matsue and Tokyo).
> 
> Headcanon is that Eiji is a homoromantic grey-Ace, and Ash is the first person he's ever really had feelings for. Ash, of course, is Bi, and does find Eiji attractive (he always has), but he's very traumatised and even thinking of sex makes him feel anxious and shameful, so he appreciates having a partner who is more interested in romance and alternative forms of intimacy. It makes for a very slow-burning, cute relationship that, as an Ace myself, I find fun to write.
> 
> I also feel that Max's potential is underused in fanfics and Griffin is underappreciated overall, so I explored that more. Max may have his issues, but he's a great father figure, and I like the idea of him continuing to look out for his best friend's little bro even after Banana Fish. 
> 
> Ash and Eiji now talk using a combination of both languages. Generally, they will speak in their own language so they only have to translate things said to them, not the replies back. Eiji uses English more than Ash uses Japanese, but both will use their second language for meaningful things (like apologies and love declarations) or to check on the other's wellbeing. (The closest real-life example I can think of is Chris and Natsuki on the Abroad In Japan channel, only Eiji is considerably more fluent in English than Natsuki!)
> 
> Okumura-san (Eiji's Mother) was only ever introduced to Ash as 'Eiji's Mother', so she is referred to as Okumura-san only because he (and consequently we) do not know her first name. Ibe is also called Ibe by Ash (and by the reader) because that is what Eiji calls him out of respect. Max, Charlie and Okumura-san all call him by his first name, Shunichi, because they either see him as a friend or they are trying to be cutesy and flirtatious.
> 
> Kaori and Eiji are close as siblings, but won't admit it. Eiji missed her a lot while abroad, but he kept quiet.
> 
> Keeping Ash out of jail realistically was a challenge!!! It's still probably more in the realm of fantasy, but I did what I could!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> My main point of reference was the manga, but I used the anime for some parts if I thought it flowed better, and I also incorporated some nods to my other fanfics. A lot of artistic license was used! I have removed as many plot holes as I can, and chased down several bunnies, but... elusive little buggers, some might remain.
> 
> I'd like to expand more upon this story at a later date, maybe do some tie-in fics or a sequel, but I am not sure yet. 
> 
> Cookie if you guessed all the chapter titles were Emily Dickinson poems. Was looking for inspiration, trying to follow on the American Lit theme, and she just sprang to mind as a nice idea. It helps that she's also, like Ash, from Massachusetts. Also, an English biscuit if you caught the Hamilton reference... blink and you miss it ;) 
> 
> The main title is a J D Salinger story. A direct quote from it:
> 
> "Loving you is the important thing, Miss Lester. There are some people who think love is sex and marriage and six o’clock-kisses and children, and perhaps it is, Miss Lester. But do you know what I think? I think love is a touch and yet not a touch. I suppose it’s important to a woman that other people think of her as the wife of a man who is either rich, handsome, witty, or popular. I’m not even popular. I’m not even hated. I’m just—I’m just—Justin Horgenschlag. I never make people gay, sad, angry, or even disgusted. I think people regard me as a nice guy, but that’s all. When I was a child no one pointed me out as being cute or bright or good-looking. If they had to say something they said I had sturdy little legs. I don’t expect an answer to this letter, Miss Lester. I would like an answer more than anything else in the world, but truthfully I don’t expect one. I merely wanted you to know the truth. If my love for you has led me to a new and great sorrow, only I am to blame."
> 
> I thought it sums Eiji up fairly well.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!


End file.
